


while collecting the stars, i connected the dots

by herecomesthepun



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1980s, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herecomesthepun/pseuds/herecomesthepun
Summary: “If you’re going to use a line,” the girl says, “at least use an original one.”“A line? People use that as a line?”She gives him a look.“People unlike myself,” he corrects, “because for me I actually am an actor.”The girl gestures around her. Faintly, there’s music playing in the background, some unremarkable piano piece that he hadn’t even noticed until now. “Are you also a musician? Did you compose this piece we’re listening to right now? You’re so talented.”or, in which Percy is a struggling actor in New York for a job, and Annabeth is jaded and wears a lot of pink.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 159





	while collecting the stars, i connected the dots

**March 1989**

The trolley lady is beginning to suspect something, Percy can tell. When she popped her head in their train compartment, her eyes had fallen on Luke, sat in the middle of them, their king, and she had frowned, in that inquisitive way people tend to do around Luke. On his meaner days, Percy says it’s only because of the blond hair and blue eyes: they’re mistaking him for another movie star. They’re all blond-haired and blue-eyed. Realistically, he knows it’s probably because they’re recognising Luke as Luke Castellan.

Luke notices. “Hello, ma’am,” he says, shiny, slick. He reeks of ulterior motives.

“Hello,” she says, cautiously. Percy gives it around a minute. “Do any of you boys want something from the trolley?”

“Do you have any fruit?” Grover enquires politely.

“I’ll take the chocolate buttons,” Leo says. (They all got their first paycheque a few weeks ago. Leo is still in the stage one tends to exist in when they come into possession of a rather sizeable sum of money.)

She does not have any fruit, but she does have chocolate buttons, and Leo takes two bags. He hands her a five-dollar bill and says, “Keep the change,” with a saucy wink. He’s just glad he has money, Percy knows. To the woman, it comes off pretty condescending: especially since Leo is wearing one of the Merriweather sweatshirts. He probably looks like a private-school toff.

“Thank you,” Percy says hurriedly, even though he doesn’t get anything.

The woman gives him an appraising look, and then glances back at Luke. Luke sits back in his seat, coolly. He’s waiting. He knows she’s going to connect the dots. How can she not?

A beat.

“Sorry,” she says finally, “but are you Luke Castellan?”

Luke smiles handsomely. “Sure am, ma’am.” He still has his Virginia charm about him, shiny, like a president on a coin.

“You’re very good,” she says. “My husband and I loved you in ‘The Golden Apple’.”

Luke shrugs modestly. “That means a lot.” He’s got one of the voices that sound like money, the noise you get when you shuffle bills, or pour lots of quarters on top of each other. Luke’s made the most of them all, but he’s also the only one who didn’t need to. Mothers probably love him.

The lady glances around furtively, and then leans in. “Say,” she says. “I shouldn’t really, but I might make an exception today. Do you want anything? On the house. We can get something organised.”

Percy can’t wait until he’s rich.

Luke considers this for a second. He looks like a Roman emperor, deciding who lives and dies. He has a regal air about him: he is one of Midas’s statues. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he says, because Luke Castellan is as polite as his mama raised him, “we would love some fruit.”

Grover sits up.

“Of course,” the lady says. “I’ll get it to you real quick.” And then she’s off with a rattle of the trolley.

“Gee,” Grover says genuinely. “Thanks, Luke. That was real nice.”

Luke has turned back into regular Luke now. He slouches down in his seat. He isn’t golden anymore. Just silvery. The scar on his face stops looking so mysterious. “That’s how you deal with them,” he says. “You get them wrapped around your finger.”

“I can’t wait until I’m rich,” Leo says. “Just you wait. I’ll land this role and everyone will be all up in this.” He cups a hand behind his ear. “Hear that, boys?”

“Hear what?” says Jason, who is sometimes delightfully unaware of rhetoric.

“It’s the sound of women screaming my name,” Leo says. “It’s so close I can almost taste it.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Please,” he says. “That role is mine.”

“It’s any of ours,” Percy corrects.

Luke gives him a considering look. “We know that’s not true.”

Percy looks at Grover, _like can you believe this?_ But Luke has already gotten Grover distracted by the promise of fruit and so he just shrugs like he doesn’t regularly partake in a Luke-based bitch session most days.

Truth be told, Percy isn’t sure whose role it is. Historically speaking, Luke has the best track record: he’s the only one who has done other projects. His name is currency, his face is the selling point. He is sculptured out of platinum but he is smeared around the edges with enough intrigue to keep him interesting. He could never be just another of the bland, blond-haired blue-eyed movie stars. He has sharp eyes, an accent he can soften enough to make him approachable, a wicked scar down his face to make him not. To them, Luke is their idol, their god. On set, they look to him for what to do. He leads the way, sits in the middle, gets Grover his fruit and wins the role. He’s Luke Castellan.

Percy can almost see the poster, the shadows of Luke’s handsome, golden face onscreen. But Hermes had given all of them the opportunity. Percy reckons that has to count for something.

He sits back in his seat with a sigh. He guesses maybe he can’t help it that he’s jealous. When you have half a dozen young actors in one space tensions are bound to break out. They’re all starring in one movie together, Half-Blood – it’s why they’re together, how they crossed paths with Luke at all. Most of them are in the same agency, so then when Hermes had sent through news on a new, prospective role in the new Zeus Olympus blockbuster, they had all leapt at the chance. Apollo gave them five days off filming for the trip to New York, where the auditions were held.

The role is most probably Luke’s. But Percy won’t let that stop him from giving it his all.

Besides, even if he doesn’t get it, at least he gets to go back home, even if it’s only for a few days. He can’t stay at his mom’s like he wants to – Luke has an apartment in New York, because he’s Luke – and they’re all camping out there for the weekend, but he and his mom have planned a day together. He’s excited to see her again. On his loneliest nights, Delaware can sometimes feel a million miles away.

“What do you think New York will be like?” Leo says, his mouth full of chocolate.

Luke answers. “It’s very fast-moving,” he says. “Full of lots of tall expensive buildings. I’ll have to give you a tour.”

Percy doesn’t need a tour. He grew up in New York. But he knows what Luke is talking about. Percy grew up in the Bronx, in alleys where clothes strung up on washing lines like plucked chickens kept up a perpetual drizzle and the smell of burning and popping fat permeated almost every brick, where Percy’s mom could only keep half a square foot of garden in her windowsill, where they had to lock their doors extra tight at night so no one would break in. Luke grew up on the Upper East Side. Their New Yorks are different. Luke and Percy’s tours probably wouldn’t even cross paths.

Percy allows it. Once _Half-Blood_ comes out, he’ll have money, and he’ll buy his mom a nice apartment on the Upper East Side as well, so she can have a bigger garden, and go to college like she wants to. You can’t blame for someone being born with a silver spoon.

You _can_ blame someone for being an outrageous dick, though, no matter how shiny and polished.

“I’ve heard New York has the best pizza,” says Connor.

Luke says, “Well, of course it doesn’t compare to authentic Italian pizza,” and Percy has to forcibly stop himself from rolling his eyes. To Jason and Leo he mouths, _authentic Italian pizza_ , and Jason suppresses a smile.

“Yeah, but who wants authentic?” says Travis, Connor’s brother. “New York does _greasy_ , baby. I want the crap stuff.”

“Amen,” Leo says, through another mouthful of chocolate.

At that moment, the compartment door slides open, and the trolley lady reappears. Luke straightens. He can switch it on and off. On, and Percy sees the charm. Off, and all that’s left is pomp and too much pomade.

“Hello, boys,” she says. She sounds chirpier, now. Before it had been dull and drab, as if it was being forced out of her, like she was pulling a washing line from her throat _: anything from the trolley?_ She’s probably switched it on now, too. Percy can’t really blame her. “Fruit.”

She produces a plastic bag, and Grover takes it eagerly. “Oh, thank you!” he says.

The lady gives him a look. She probably thought Luke would take it.

“What’s the loot?” Luke says, coolly. It’s to Grover but he doesn’t break eye contact with the trolley lady.

“Apples,” Grover says. “And pears.” He pauses, twists his mouth a little.

Luke notices. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you want something else?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s perfect,” Grover is quick to assure the woman.

“No, it’s not,” Luke says to her. To Grover: “What do you want? Oranges? Peaches?”

Grover looks like he wants to put his head in the bag. “I guess... maybe...”

“Well?” Luke demands.

“Maybe a plum?”

“We’d like some plums, too,” Luke says, and hands the bag back to the lady. “Thank you.”

She stares at them. “Uh...”

“I’m sure you can manage that,” Luke says. “Unless it’s an unreasonable request.”

What a trap. She will never say no. Luke would probably make a good politician like that.

“Of course not,” she says, and tightens her hand around the bag. “I apologise,” she says, to Grover, ducks, almost a curtsey, and is off in a flash.

Percy can’t help himself. “That was a bit of a dick move.”

“Grover wanted plums,” Luke says, an eyebrow raised. _Kick up a fuss_ , his expression says. _Go on, I dare you._ His face is blank and expectant, his voice slippery. A slippery slope, more like. Percy supposes all actors are a little sociopathic. It just feels amped up with Luke: onscreen, he can cry and laugh as convincingly as if he meant it, but sometimes like this, the smokescreen of his face thins a little too much, and Percy feels like he can look through his glass eyes and see into his skull.

“The apples and pears were fine,” Grover said, a little desperately.

“No, they weren’t,” Luke says. “But now you have your plums.”

Grover sits back in his seat, face pained.

“I like plums,” Leo says, in the silence.

“See, Percy?” Luke says.

There’s no point arguing. Percy sits back in his seat as well, and looks out of the window. The crush of Philadelphia rushes past in the windows, and he closes his eyes. They’ll be there soon enough.

*

When Luke had initially offered that they all stay at his apartment, privately, Percy had wondered how they were all going to fit. Even the sleeker apartments in New York, the expensive bachelor pad-types whose demographic would probably just be dozens and dozens of Lukes, were usually only one- or two-bed, and there were seven of them. He’d sort of made nice with the fact that he was probably going to have to sleep on the floor, but upon walking in all his doubts disappear.

Travis lets out a low whistle of approval as they enter. “Hot damn!”

Apartment was modest. Luke lives in a frigging _penthouse_.

The entire place is silver and marbled, with floor-to-ceiling windows that span almost the entirety of the living room. After he graduated high school, Percy lived in a studio apartment in Bushwick for a few months with four other roommates, and because of it he’d always thought that studio apartments were uncomfortable and cramped and crowded, and more a sign of struggle than substantial wealth. When you sit on a toilet in a cupboard and can see both your bed and your stove through the crack in your door in the same eyeline you don’t really think “luxury”.

Looking at Luke’s place, Percy almost can’t correlate the two. How are they even the same _thing_? Percy’s tap was an amputated fire hose. He’s pretty sure Luke’s entire sink is made of solid gold.

“You can see the entire city from here,” Leo says, voice hushed in awe. He tugs at Percy’s sleeve. “Bro, _look_! The Empire State Building!”

Luke throws his bag dismissively onto one of the couches. “I’ll get out the air mattresses for you. Three of you will have to sleep on the sofas.”

“Sofas,” Grover says to Percy in wonderment. “As in, sofas, _plural_.”

Leo sits next to Luke’s discarded bag and practically melts into the pillows. “That will not be a problem,” he says. “ _Woah_. How much did this even cost?”

“Four thousand dollars.”

Percy has to stifle a laugh at the way Leo sits up. “Four... _thousand_?”

“Mm,” Luke says. “Are any of you hungry?”

Oblivious, he disappears into the shiny silver kitchen. Leo repeats, “ _Dude_.”

“I’m not sleeping on that,” Percy says. “Can you imagine what would happen if you spilled food on that thing?”

“It’s insured,” Luke calls from the kitchen.

“Of course it is,” Percy says.

“Four thousand dollars?” Jason says. “I’d insure it as well.”

Connor dumps his bag on the floor and collapses onto one of the loveseats. Against the New York skyline he casts a dark silhouette across the floor. “What food do you have?” he asks to Luke, still in the kitchen.

There are sounds of opening cupboards. Luke makes a contemplative noise. “Not much. I haven’t been here for a while, so it’s not properly stocked up.” There’s the _snick_ of a cupboard door closing, and then Luke turns around to face them, leaning against the granite island. “I’ll have to give the housekeeper a telephone in the morning so she can pick up some groceries. You can tell me your requests later for food so we’ll be okay until we leave. For now, since we don’t have much, how about we order in?”

Everyone cheers their assent.

“ _Hell_ , yeah!” Leo says. Percy is still stuck on _housekeeper_. “Pizza?”

“Sounds good,” Luke says. “There’s a local pizzeria down the road. It’s true authentic Italian cuisine – delicious. I’ll telephone them and place and order. What do you like?”

As the boys chime in with different toppings (“I am not eating a vegetable pizza because Grover is a tree hugger,” Percy hears Leo say. Affronted, Grover defends, “Hey!”), Percy glances at the telephone cradle on the wall by the door. He’d promised to call his mom as soon as he could when he got to New York, and he wonders about the potential of asking Luke to borrow his landline. If he’s quick then it won’t cost much, he doesn’t think. Not that he supposes it matters: Luke could afford it. Percy could stay up all night talking to his mom, and then keep the line running throughout the rest of the day, and Luke probably wouldn’t even feel it.

“Percy?” he hears someone ask, and he comes out of his reverie to see Grover looking at him. “You’ll share a vegetable pizza with me, won’t you?”

Percy likes Grover a lot, but there are a few things he won’t sacrifice for him. “Hell no, dude,” he says. “I’m not wasting a New York pizza on vegetables.”

“But you grew up in New York! You’ve had the pizza before!”

“So?”

Luke looks up at that. “You grew up here?” he says to Percy. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, just maybe like an hour away from here.”

“Whereabouts?”

“East Bronx.”

Luke nods, his expression unreadable. Percy can’t tell if he’s apprehending or applauding him. “Did you attend NYU? We might have been classmates.”

“Uh.” Percy pulls at a loose thread in the carpet. He’s never been embarrassed making known that he and his mom were never well off, especially now that he’s started making strides in the industry, proper strides that could probably lift his mom into a new life, but in the face of Luke’s shiny Upper East Side apartment with its four-thousand dollar sofas and very own housekeeper it feels almost humiliating to admit. “No, I didn’t go to college.”

To his surprise, Luke simply nods thoughtfully at that. “Okay,” he says, simply, and then holds up his fingers. “So, are we in agreement for five meat-lovers pizzas and one vegetable?”

“Definitely,” Leo says. “I’m already salivating.”

“Would it be possible to get the vegetable with extra pepperoncini?” Grover inquires.

Luke nods. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll go and ring them now, it should only take around half an hour for them to deliver.”

He makes a move to leave. Before Percy can lose his nerve, he says, “Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“After you’re done,” Percy broaches hesitantly, “would it be okay if I rang my mom? It’d only be for a short while—”

Luke cuts him off with a shrug. “Sure, dude,” he says. “Do whatever. My place is your place. Won’t be a minute, boys.”

And then he’s gone.

“That was nice of him,” says Jason.

“I didn’t know he could do that,” Leo says.

Travis laughs. “What, be nice?”

“Yeah!” Leo says. I’ve always sort of viewed him as one of those hollow suits of armour that you see in museums and stuff.”

Percy considers this. “That’s... actually pretty accurate.”

“Wordsmith, me,” Leo says.

Jason looks thoughtful. “I might do the same, Percy,” he says. “My sister told me to ring her when I got here to confirm I hadn’t disappeared.”

Percy frowns. “Disappeared?”

“Two uncles vanished on a train to New York,” Jason reassures him, which only serves to readily un-reassure him further. “It’s actually a reasonable request. We think it’s genetic.”

“Dude,” Connor says.

“Is your sister the hot one with the blue streak?” Leo says. “I remember when she visited set a few weeks ago. Hoo-wee. What a firecracker.”

“She’d eat you alive,” Jason says.

Percy is still trying to wrap his head around Jason’s first statement. “Just... vanished?” he says, quite concerned.

Jason, on the other hand, seems remarkably nonchalant about the whole affair. “Mm-hm. He boarded in Ohio and somewhere between there and New York he disappeared. Then the other uncle boarded in West Virginia, and the police think he disappeared somewhere in Pennsylvania, but we haven’t found him. Though we found the first uncle’s skull in Oklahoma last year.”

Percy makes the executive decision to not pry any further. “Huh,” he says.

“I’d be a perfectly attentive lover,” Leo says, who somehow let Jason’s story pass him by in favour of the blue-haired sister Percy vaguely recalls seeing on set once. “She’d like me. You should introduce us, next time she visits.”

“She’d never settle for a mug likes yours,” Connor says. “I’d be good to her, I think.”

“You?” Travis says. “You’re the ugly brother.”

“We’re identical.”

“But I’ve got the better personality.”

“None of you are going near my sister,” Jason says. “Except Grover. He’d treat her right.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Grover offers.

“What about me?” Percy says.

Jason considers this. “You, as well,” he says. “I’d like to have you as a brother-in-law.”

For some reason, that makes Percy feel almost absurdly pleased. He’s always been a people person, but he’d been warned before he went to the Half-Blood set that he shouldn’t expect to get along with everyone, especially on a movie where everyone is the same age. A lot of big egos in one space is a recipe for a disaster. But Percy really feels like he’s made really good friends on Half-Blood, because everyone is relatively new to the industry – aside from Luke, who is most likely some variant of sociopath – and rather contradictorily, getting rejected from dozens of auditions keeps you pretty grounded. Hearing that it’s reciprocated, hearing that they view him as a friend as well – well, it’s more rewarding than maybe it should be.

At that moment, Luke finishes talking on the phone, and hangs it up. “Pizza’s ordered,” he says. “They said it should be around thirty minutes.” He glances at Percy. “Phone’s free.”

“Thanks,” Percy says gratefully, and clambers to his feet. For a few moments, he’s worried that the boys are going to be able to hear him, but then Leo starts up another conversation and they descend into noise, so Percy reckons they won’t be overheard.

Percy’s mom picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” she says, and just the sound of her voice has him relaxing.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Percy!” He can almost hear her smile through the line. “It’s so good to hear your voice! I thought you wouldn’t be arriving until later.”

“We got an earlier train. We just arrived, actually, we’re staying with Luke, so I just wanted to call you to check in.”

“Of course! I always love hearing from you. Did you have a good journey?”

They fall into easy conversation, and within minutes any residue tension from the train ride has completely drained from him. He hasn’t lived with his mom for a while, especially now that he’s constantly moving around for various projects, but talking to her still has the same effect on him as it did when he was six and banged up his knees. In this uncertain lifestyle, she’s really the only thing that remains constant throughout the ever-changing tides, and whenever he talks to her he feels grounded in a way that he can’t much, these days. He wouldn’t change what he’s doing for the world – but floating around the country on four hours of sleep leaves him feeling untethered, almost. The reminder of his anchor back home is always something comforting.

Eventually, though, as all good things, the conversation rounds to an end. Percy could talk to his mom for hours, especially now that he’s got so many things going on to tell her about, but he knows that she’s busy, and he also has a sense that Luke, despite his insane wealth, won’t appreciate such a hefty telephone bill.

However, just as he’s about to say farewell, he remembers something. “Oh, hey, are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Oh!” Her voice takes on an apologetic tone. “Percy, I’m so sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course, of course. But Tommy, from the sweetshop, he quit last week, and Marianne is still trying to balance out all his shifts. I’ve been given an all-day tomorrow, I’m so sorry, honey.”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry, Mom.” Percy presses the nail of his forefinger into his thumb, hard. He’d been looking forward to see his mom for weeks now – but he gets it. “Next time.”

“Definitely. Maybe I can get a train down to Delaware in a few weeks for a bit!”

“Mom, it’s okay. You need to work. It’s all right. I’ll see you soon, okay? Don’t worry.”

Her voice is dubious. “Are you sure, love?”

“I’m sure, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, Percy. Take care of yourself. Call me when you next can, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. See you.”

“See you, honey.”

The line goes dead. Percy sighs, and hangs the telephone back in its cradle. He gets it, he does – but it still sucks. He hasn’t seen his mom in a while, probably the longest it’s ever been, around six or seven months. Ever since Hermes had called and said that they’d all managed to snag an audition, Percy and his mom had been planning this day for weeks. It would be selfish of him to make her cancel work just to see him – but still.

He heads back into the living room, spirits slightly dampened. The boys all look up as re-enters, halfway through setting up a game of Monopoly on the floor. “Hey,” Grover says, “good call?”

“Yeah,” Percy says. He sits next to him.

“You still seeing your mom tomorrow?”

“Nah. She couldn’t make it.”

“Aw, dude,” Grover says, his brow creased. “That sucks.”

Percy shrugs. “It’s whatever.”

“You can hang with us, then,” Luke says, with the imperiousness of an emperor sparing the life of a subject in the Colosseum. “I’m giving the boys a tour of New York. Are you in?”

Percy doesn’t mention that he doesn’t need a tour. “Sure,” he says.

“We’ll be hitting all the stops,” Luke says. He holds up his fingers, as though he’s checking off a list. “First, we’ll make a stop by this little café by the station – it does the best breakfast bagels, I can buy you each one – and then we can visit Central Park, and then we’ll stop at a museum—”

Leo raises his hand. “Uh, I didn’t sign up for a _museum_. I thought this was going to be fun.”

Luke scoffs, as though he said something laughable. “ _Fun_ ,” he says, like the very idea disgusts him. Knowing Luke, it probably does. Percy doesn’t think Luke has ever experienced it before. (Anyone who knows fun doesn’t go on jogs at five am.) “It’s going to be a day of learning.”

“ _Learning_!” Leo parrots.

“Can I use the telephone to call my sister?” Jason says.

“Sure,” Luke says. Jason flicks him a thumbs up and heads for the telephone.

“I thought we were going to do cool things in New York,” Leo continues. “Like—I don’t know. Getting pretzels. Pretending to be buskers. Seeing a rat.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Don’t be foolish, Leo.”

“A rat,” Percy says.

“Apparently the New York ones are the size of cats,” Leo explains. “If I go this entire trip without seeing something mutant I will riot.”

“New York has a deep, rich history,” Luke says, patronising. “It would be a sin to not go out and learn about it.” Luke often speaks like everything coming out of his mouth is law. Casually, too, as though he doesn’t particularly have to try, it just is. It’s probably a mix of charisma and being the god of the room, and they all know it, but Percy still sees Leo deflate anyway.

“I guess,” he says dubiously.

“I think it’ll be fun,” Grover says, and they all turn to glance at him. “What? Museums can be interesting. My uncle is a curator. We have a lot of old things back at home because he can’t put them all in the exhibits.”

Percy glances at Luke, sat back in his chair, surveying. A king never has to fight his own battles.

At that moment, Jason rejoins the circle. “Hey!” he chirps.

“Good call?” Travis says.

“Yeah. Thalia says hi. Also apparently an aunt has disappeared.”

Percy frowns. “Was she even on a train?”

“Nope. Just vanished! They think she’s been murdered.” This is all delivered very nonchalantly. Jason doesn’t seem to notice the wide-eyed looks that the rest of them exchange above his head, and he leans forward. “Are we still playing Monopoly? I want to be the thimble.”

The subject of tomorrow is forgotten as the rest of the boy launch to reclaim certain pieces. Percy joins as well, but he doesn’t miss Luke’s almost triumphant smirk.

*

For all Luke’s mild sociopathy, he knows his bagels.

Percy moans as he takes a bite – ham and egg – and practically melts into his seat. They had picked up half a dozen on the way to the museum, something about mechanics that approximately, and rather ironically, had only excited Leo, to eat on the bus there, and Percy is almost regretful that they decided to do it this way, if only because it’s getting increasing hard to stop any moans of pleasure escaping. (Leo doesn’t have the same reservations, clearly. He makes a noise so wholly inappropriate for a public space even Percy feels awkward.)

“Told you,” Luke says smugly. Normally, Percy would want to wipe that arrogant look right off his face, but right now, he can’t even be mad. “ _Bread Earth_ does the best breakfast bagels.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Connor says. “I feel like I’ve transcended a state of existence.”

Leo makes another terrible sound. Jason says, “I feel like that is getting a little inappropriate now.”

“This makes up for the park,” Leo says. (Luke tried to show them Central Park. Turns out, for observational tourism purposes, it doesn’t really have much to offer. They’d stood around politely for five minutes and decided to move on.) Luke just scoffs at this, though.

“It’s not my fault you don’t understand history,” he says.

“Don’t ever become a tour guide,” Leo advises him.

Percy sees that Luke is probably going to spiral into a void of arrogance and self-righteousness so he says to Leo, “Eat your bagel.” Leo needs no convincing.

“What’s up next on the agenda, then, boss?” Travis says.

“The Museum of Mechanics,” Luke says. “It’s very fascinating. They have a model of one of the first trains.”

“The last time I went to a museum,” Connor muses, “I hooked up with a girl in an airing cupboard.”

Travis snorts. “No, you didn’t. You totally struck out.”

“We made out for, like, half an hour. You just weren’t paying attention because you were getting rejected by the clerk.”

“Who left with a phone number, Connor, huh? Me or you?”

Luke looks increasingly pained. “Aren’t any of you interested in the history?”

“No,” they all say, except Grover who says tentatively, “Kind of”, which is essentially also no. (Grover is a kind soul.)

Luke just huffs.

At that moment, the bus pulls to a stop, and a tinny voiceover announces drably over the speaker system, “Please alight for the Museum of Mechanics.” They all stand up, dust the crumbs from their jacket, collect any trash they had produced and leave. Percy doesn’t fail to notice the way Luke smirks at a girl further down the bus, who has clearly just noticed him, and tries to suppress an eye roll. Honestly, Luke is such a slimeball. He’s surprised his shiny blond hair hasn’t started moulting yet.

The museum itself is surprisingly cool. Percy’s always quite liked museums – school was hard, growing up, and museums were so large and interactive and expansive that he always felt like it could accommodate his ADHD when it came to learning – but he prefers the museums about history, with Greek statues and paintings, where he feels like he can traipse through human history. He never liked science – it was too finnicky, didn’t make much sense. Mechanics is the worst, and by a long shot.

But the museum isn’t actually that bad. He didn’t really know what he was expecting – maybe huge whiteboards, filled with Math equations and tour guides giving lectures on machinery – but it wasn’t train models, huge post-modern copper pipes rumbling as they boil water, aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling. Percy acquiesces, and admits that, as well as bagels, maybe Luke also knows his museums.

“Woah,” Leo says. “This is rad!”

He tugs Percy’s sleeve, drags him to an exhibit of a dissected train, all the different parts strung up on wires, with small place cards describing each of their functions. The rest of the boys follow. Percy frankly doesn’t care enough to read them, but Leo’s enthusiasm is infectious, and he finds himself genuinely having a good time as Leo eagerly interrogates the lady manning the exhibit. For all his griping yesterday, it’s clear that this is Leo’s element. Percy vaguely remembers him mentioning something about how he worked as a mechanic as he auditioned, for some sort of income, and it’s clear that it was something he really, truly enjoyed. It’s really endearing to see.

“How do even know all this stuff, Leo?” Jason says, as they step away.

“I worked as a mechanic, before Half-Blood,” Leo says. “Had to make money somehow. It was pretty cool, though, got free food and everything. And now I know about cars!”

“A mechanic?” says Luke.

“Yeah, man. A regular grease-monkey, me.” He clearly is about to go on a tangent, until his eyes snag on something over his head and his expression flattens in awe. “Oh, dude, _look_ at that! Percy, come with me.”

Percy is dragged off again before Luke can respond. He glances back as he moves, though, sees the contemplative expression on Luke’s face, as if he’s trying to adjust to the fact that two of his castmates are blatantly working-class. Percy doesn’t think he’s judging – you’d have to be some kind of asshole to judge how much someone makes, a line he doubts even Luke would be dumb enough to cross – you don’t need much except charisma and luck to really make it as an actor, but you also don’t get anywhere being stupid – more like shifting his worldview. Which is also a pretty douchey thing to have to do, but small steps, at least. Rather that than outward criticism. Leo doesn’t seem to notice, he’s too busy almost pissing himself over a six-foot motor.

After a few moments, he becomes aware of a presence next to him, and when he glances over he sees it’s Grover, grinning at him. He smiles back, gives him a small nudge with his shoulder. “Hey, dude,” he says. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah, actually,” Grover says. “I don’t know I was expecting this to be boring.”

“I think Leo’s just making it exciting,” Percy says, and nods in Leo’s direction. Right now, he’s animatedly chattering to one of the workers, gesticulating wildly around as though he’s trying to speak through interpretive dance. It’s really quite cute, actually. “Hard to feel bored when he’s looks seconds away from spontaneously combusting.”

Grover laughs at that. “I guess.” He gives Percy a nudge, a little hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he could until Percy did. “This is pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“The museum?”

“Yeah, but—all of it, as well. New York. The audition. The movie. It’s kind of crazy we managed to get here.”

Percy exhales a laugh. “Yeah, you can say that. I still have to pinch myself most days. Are you feeling ready for the audition?”

“As I’ll ever be. I don’t think I’ll get it.”

Percy frowns. “Why not?”

“I’m not really leading man material.”

“Dude, what are you talking about? You totally are.”

Grover waves him off. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I don’t even really care about the movie. I just wanted to come with you guys because I thought it would be fun.”

Percy’s face probably does something embarrassing. “Dude,” he says, heartfelt.

“Kind of worth it,” Grover says. “I mean, free bagels? Much better than sitting back in Delaware waiting for you guys to come home.”

Percy laughs, and Grover looks pleased.

“Have you ever been before?” Percy says. “To New York?”

“No, this is my first time. You grew up here, right?”

“Yeah. Not this area, but roundabout.”

“That’s cool.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Colorado.” He makes a goofy little horn sign with his hand. “Home of the hipster. Go us!”

“It is pretty cool that we all ended up here,” Percy says. “Together. I’m glad I met you, man.”

Grover smiles at him, pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Me, too.”

At that moment, Leo bounces up them. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Isn’t this the coolest thing ever?”

Percy laughs. “It’s definitely pretty awesome.”

“You know they use magnets in motors? How amazing is that!”

“Very amazing,” Grover agrees.

Leo grins at both of them, and then his gaze catches on something over their heads, and his eyes grow to the size of saucers. He reminds Percy of when he used to catch insects in jars, hear them buzzing around inside. He’s practically throwing himself from exhibit to exhibit like a firecracker. “Look!” he squawks, grabbing them both by the shirt. “Look at that car model!”

Percy turns instinctively, stepping out to get a better vantage. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly the right move – because at that moment, a lady next to him throws a closed parasol over her shoulder, and they connect with a _crunch_.

Percy thinks, _oh crap._

*

“Well,” Jason says, “on the bright side, at least your nose isn’t broken.”

From where Grover is leaning his head back, Percy manages to fix Jason with an unimpressed look. “Thanks, Jason.”

“Is he dead?” Grover wails.

“You’re not helping,” Percy tells him.

“There’s just so much blood! I think I can see your brains through your nose!”

“It’s just bruising,” Jason is quick to assure Percy. “Don’t listen to him.”

Percy rolls his eyes. Just his luck that in the face of a mild catastrophe he is stuck with the single most dramatic people on the planet. Grover just sniffles, and adjusts the ice pack where he’s pressing it again Percy’s swollen nose, almost smothering him. “I thought you died,” he says mournfully. “I swore for certain we’d lost you forever.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Leo says to Jason. “What if he has brain damage? Does he remember who we are? Percy, quick, what’s my name?”

Percy just manages to catch himself from rolling his eyes again, but it’s a damn hear thing. “You’re the one with brain damage if you think I could ever be lucky enough to forget your ugly mug.”

“I don’t know, man,” Travis says, “you went down pretty hard.”

“I thought you’d cracked your skull,” Luke says. Sympathetic isn’t a very good look on Luke: he looks like he doesn’t know quite how to do it, so has instead decided to resume his ever-present mask of indifference to avoid malfunctioning. It only serves to make him look more like a robot, but Percy’s also pretty sure the only reason they managed to get hold of an ice pack at all was because they had Luke in their ranks, so he has enough sense to not mention it.

Instead, he just sighs. “Very encouraging, guys.”

“Should we call an ambulance?” Leo says.

“No,” Jason says. “He’s fine, just a bit banged up. Can you stand?”

Percy takes his offered hand, and Jason helps him to feet. His vision fuzzes a little at the sudden change in altitude, but it clears quickly enough that he knows he isn’t concussed, and instead experimentally pulls the ice pack away from his nose to survey the damage. By the low hisses of sympathy from the boys, it’s not very pretty.

Grover claps his hands over his eyes. “I can’t look.”

“Is it weird to say it looks pretty badass?” Connor says.

Jason is giving Percy a concerned look. “At least it’s not broken,” he says again, but even he sounds dubious now. He looks moments away from reaching over and prodding at it again to make sure.

“Can you stop being so dramatic?” Percy says, exasperated. “I’m fine.”

“You look like an extra on a horror movie,” Connor says. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Should we call an ambulance?” Leo prods. “Take you home? To hospital?”

Percy actually rolls his eyes then. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You guys don’t have to cut this day short because of me. I just maybe need to sit down for a bit. You guys keep going.”

Immediately, Jason is by his side. “I’ll go with you,” he offers. “We can sit outside. I’ve seen the museum before, I won’t be missing anything.”

“Take Grover, too,” Luke says. “He looks like he’s about to hurl.”

There seems to be a backwards sense of logic somewhere in that, because Percy’s pretty sure it was proximation to his bloody nose that has Grover looking so pallid, but he’s also sure Grover won’t enjoy any more of the exhibits after this. (He’s a sensitive soul.) “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Dude, come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

Together, he and Jason drag Grover to the exit. They get some strange looks, probably due to the rivulet of drying blood down Percy’s face and the way Grover is softly moaning between the two of them like he’s deathly ill, but thankfully no one stops them, and only a few seconds later they emerge from the front door.

“Oh, thank God,” Grover mutters, and throws up in a trash can.

Percy and Jason share matching disgusted looks over his head as he continues to hurl. “There, there,” Jason says, rubbing his back. “Get it all out.”

Privately, Percy has to smile. It’s not exactly how you’d imagine a glamorous trip to the city of dreams with a group of movie stars, but it wouldn’t have been the same without these goobers.

But then, as he watches Grover wheeze over the edge of the trash can, a thought occurs to him, and he looks at Jason. “I thought you’d never visited New York before.”

Jason glances at him with a smile. “Yeah, I haven’t. Memorable first time, eh?”

“Then... what you said inside. How you’d already seen this museum.”

“Oh.” Jason turns back to Grover, pulls his shaggy hair out of his face. “I haven’t.”

Percy looks at him. “Then why did you say you had?”

Jason shrugs unself-consciously. “You’re my friend,” he says. “I’d rather hang with you then see a museum.”

Something bright and happy warms in Percy’s chest, and he has to look back at Grover so Jason doesn’t see him smile.

“Ugh.” Grover lolls against the side of the bin, looking tired but a little less pale. He grins dopily at the two of them. “I feel so much better.”

“You need to wipe your mouth,” Percy tells him.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” Jason says.

They help Grover away from the bin and find an empty perch on the wide stone steps leading up the museum. It’s a pretty nice day, with a light breeze to fend off the harder moments of sun, and within only a few minutes of being outside Grover has already started to look better. Now that he’s out of the cool stone rooms of the museum, Percy is slowly beginning to regain feeling in his nose from the warmth of the day, and he quickly presses the ice pack against it before it can start to hurt.

“I actually feel a lot better now,” Grover says, quite brightly. He’s perked right up. “You know what they say: better out than in.”

“No one says that,” Percy says.

“I didn’t know you were so freaked by blood,” Jason says.

Grover ducks his head. “I have a tendency to feel queasy at the sight of it. I just don’t like seeing people hurt! I really thought that lady had done permanent damage to you.”

“None of that, I’m afraid,” Percy says, his voice muffled by the ice pack. “Although I think I’ve ruined my shirt.” He plucks at it, a little unhappily. This was one of his nicer shirts, too.

“On the way home we can stop and get you a new one,” Jason says. “Or we could just wash it at Luke’s. Cold water gets bloodstains out.”

Percy wants to ask how he knows that, and then figures he’s probably better off not knowing. Jason is a great friend but from what he has shared about his family, titbits he tends to nonchalantly drops into casual conversation like they aren’t wildly disturbing, is not promising. Percy is content to not know much else.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” Grover says. “That was nice of you guys.”

“You’re my friends,” Jason says simply. “Of course.”

Grover grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you goob, of course you are! I’m your friend as well, right?”

“Of course!” Grover is quick to assure him. “I love you guys. I’m glad I met you. We’ll stay in touch after Half-Blood wraps, right? I can give you the number for my landline, and my address!”

“Definitely,” Percy says, and he means it. Aside from Luke, whom he is more than happy to drop like a hot potato as soon as they finish shooting, he’s really felt like he bonded with everyone on set, and he knows that he’ll look back on this New York trip with fondness.

He leans back against the steps, on his elbows, tilts his head up into the sunshine. The warmth feels good on his sore face, like a balm, and his eyes slip closed. He could probably fall asleep like this. However, just as he’s beginning to properly feel himself relax, Jason suddenly gasps and sits up from where they’re pressed together.

Percy looks up, alarmed. “What?”

“Look!” Jason says, pointing.

Frowning, Percy follows his finger, to see a large ugly beige building across the street. It has wide stone steps, not unlike the museum, with white arching columns and a steady trickle of people in and out. But still—

“Dude, what?” he says. “A _library_?”

Jason looks at him imploringly. “We need to visit it.”

Grover laughs. “What?”

“It’ll be fun!”

Percy squints at Jason. “You’re in the city of dreams and you want to visit a _library_?”

“It’s not just a _library_ ,” Jason says, as though Percy is stupid. “The New York Public Library is one of America’s finest establishments! It’s a pivotal part of American education!” He glances between Grover and Percy, clearly expecting to see some enthusiasm, as though he thought _education_ would be the right buzz word to get them raring to go. When they keep giving him blank looks, he deflates a little. “Come on, dudes! It’ll be exciting.”

“I’m not spending precious time I could be using to do anything else visiting a _library_ ,” Percy says. “Think again, dude. Not happening.”

“Grover?”

Grover looks doubtful. “I don’t know, man...”

Jason must see his resolve wavering, because he turns to him and fixes him with wide beseeching eyes. “Please?” he says. “It’ll be quick! Just ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. When will I ever get this chance again?”

Grover pulls a distressed expression, and he and Percy glance at each other dubiously. On one hand, Percy didn’t even visit libraries when he was in school. While New York doesn’t hold the same sparkly promise of adventure for him as it does the others who haven’t come before, he still doesn’t want to spend a day with friends in a library. Percy can only assume by the look on Grover’s face that he feels quite the same.

But on the other...

Jason _did_ say only ten minutes. And they do kind of owe him.

Percy sighs, and he and Grover share a resigned look. Damn Jason and his perfect facial features. No one can say no to eyes like that. Percy turns to Jason. “Fifteen minutes tops,” he says.

Jason cheers, and jumps up. “Yes! I promise you, it’ll be worth your while.”

“You can repay us by sharing a veggie pizza with me,” Grover says, as Percy pulls him to his feet. Jason just laughs.

“I held your hair back while you vomited, you’re having a laugh if you think this is going to return even a fraction of the favour.”

Together, they head down the steps. Because Percy’s still got the ice pack against his face, his vision is partially obscured, and Grover and Jason have to lead him so he doesn’t trip over anything. When they reach the curb side, he is momentarily very afraid, because he has seen Grover giddily jaywalk multiple times, but thankfully Jason is sensible enough to wait until the traffic lights are red to lead him across the road.

He makes this fact known once they reach the other side and there is no risk of being pushed into oncoming traffic in retribution, and Grover makes an indignant sound.

“I am perfectly respectful of the law!” he says, puffing out his chest. “I am an exemplar citizen! It’s just Leo. You know the slippery slope of peer pressure.”

Percy and Jason share an amused look.

They all proceed up the steps together, and within a few moments are walking through the huge door into the library. Next to him, Jason makes a soft noise of awe, and even Percy has to begrudging admit: it’s pretty magical. For all his previous scorn, there is something quietly comforting about a room filled with so many books: the high, swooping ceilings, huge ornate windows and rows upon rows of bookshelves. Just the smell, paper and cotton and mildew, is enough to have the tension from the day leaving his shoulders.

“Woah,” Grover says, his voice hushed. “This place is huge.”

“Huge?” Jason turns on them. Percy has never seen his eyes so bright. “This is... boys, this is _monumental_! We are standing in American _history_! It’s the second largest public library in the entirety of the States! Imagine how many texts they have.” He inhales deeply. “Can you smell that? It smells of knowledge. This... this is what reading was created _for_.”

There’s something almost infectious about his enthusiasm. Any of Percy’s residue trauma from years of teachers making snide remarks about his spelling disappear in the wake of Jason’s pure, unadulterated awe. Even he feels himself begin to itch with the desire to look around, flip through the books, absorb information.

“I’m going to look at some of the books they have,” Jason says. “It’ll only be for a few minutes, I just want to see what they have. Do you want to come with me?”

“I’m good,” Percy says. He glances around. “I’ll just... poke around.”

“Cool,” Jason says. “Grover, come look with me, I want to have a look through some of their texts about Ancient Rome.”

The two of them disappear around a shelf of books, Grover’s loud protests fading off until Percy is left by himself. He shakes his head fondly at his friends’ antics, and then turns: looking back, he can’t say for what reason. Maybe to leave, sit by the front doors, wait for Jason and Grover to return, or maybe to look closer at some of the spines, pick up a book, flick through it.

Honestly, it doesn’t matter.

Because that’s when he sees her.

She’s sat at a table, her head bent over a book, writing something down. From his vantage point, he can’t see much of her, just the curve of her shoulder, in a sweater the colour of candyfloss, and curly blonde hair in a loose ponytail, but he doesn’t need to. She is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in his entire life, and he is instantly filled with an urge to get to know her, to walk up to her and introduce himself and not let her walk away without at least knowing her name.

His mom always said Percy was sometimes too outgoing for his own good. But he’s not going to let an opportunity like this pass by.

He slips out from behind the bookshelves and heads towards her. As he walks, he tries to formulate what he’s going to say to her: hello? No, way too formal. Hi, I’m Percy? Direct – but maybe too direct. He curses himself. He’s just going to have to improvise. Hopefully his tongue won’t betray him this time.

She still hasn’t noticed him by the time he reaches her. He waits expectantly for a few moments, but when it becomes clear that she’s completely absorbed into her book, he internally steels himself and clears his throat.

The girl’s head shoots up in surprise, almost jerking out of her seat. When her eyes land on him, her expression clouds with confusion.

Percy grins at her. “Hi.”

There is a beat. The girl glances over her shoulder, as if he thinks he’s talking to someone else, and then she looks back at him, her expression carefully guarded. “Hey,” she says, cautiously.

Percy waits, but she doesn’t seem as though she’s going to offer up any more information. “I’m Percy,” he says, and sticks out his hand for her to shake.

Hesitantly, she accepts. Her nails are painted a pale pink that matches her sweater. Up close, he can see the grey of her eyes behind her glasses; they are the same colour as the steps of the museum.

When she doesn’t respond, he realises that he probably wasn’t being very obvious about his intentions. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “What’s your name?”

The girl is still looking confusedly at him. After a moment’s pause, she says finally, “Sorry, did you... need something?”

Her voice is tipped with an accent: not slippery, like Luke, but lilting, like rolling hills in the countryside. She looks like she was a cheerleader but she sounds like she did debate. If Luke is slick and greened like dollar bills, she is paper-soft and well-thumbed, like an old book. Her eyes are like the globes of the Earth you find in libraries.

Percy’s brain finally stutters over what she’s just said, and he realises that he probably came off quite expectant. “Oh, no, don’t worry!” He grins at her, a little sheepishly, and slips into the chair across from her. “I just saw you from across the way, and I thought you were beautiful, so I thought I’d come say hello.”

Her mouth parts in surprise. “What?”

Percy realises that context may be required. “I wasn’t creeping on you!” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to see you—I mean, I did, but not intentionally! I was just standing in one of the aisles and then through the bookshelf I saw you and I thought you were really pretty. I don’t even visit libraries that much, we were in the museum across the road – me and my friends – we’re actors, we’re just stopping by in New York for an audition – and then—”

“Actors?”

There’s something almost amused in her tone now. Her lips are pressed together, as if she’s suppressing a smile, her eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah,” Percy says. “What’s so funny?”

“You think I haven’t heard that one before?”

Percy pauses, a little confused. This is not how he expected this to go. “Uh... no? Lots of people are actors.”

She laughs, and rolls her eyes, as if she is humouring a child. “You’re cute,” she says. “But you’re not an actor.”

Percy’s brain trips up on _cute_ , but then he comprehends the rest of what she’s said. He sits up, a little indignantly. “What? Yes, I am!”

“Really,” she says.

“Really!”

“What movies have you been in, then?”

Unfortunately, Percy doesn’t have much against that. “Well, nothing—” he admits, but when her face lights up with a crow of triumph he hurriedly clarifies, “Nothing _yet_! We’re filming a movie right now, but I can’t really tell you the name of it because I don’t think I’m contractually allowed.”

She just gives him an amused look. “Okay.”

She says it like she’s simply indulging him: _okay_. Privately, Percy likes the mischievous twinge to her voice, the way she carries it, like she’s singing it. Still: “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“If you’re going to use a line,” she says, “at least use an original one.”

“A line? People use that as a line?”

She gives him a look.

“People unlike myself,” he corrects, “because for me it’s true.”

The girl gestures around her. Faintly, there’s music playing in the background, some unremarkable piano piece that he hadn’t even noticed until now. “Are you also a musician? Did you compose this piece we’re listening to right now? You’re so talented.”

He pulls a face, and she laughs delightedly. Even though it’s probably at his expense, he loves the sound of it.

“I’m being serious!” he says. “I don’t know how I can prove it to you.”

“That sounds a lot like something someone who has nothing to prove would say.”

“I can recite some Shakespeare.”

“So can I.”

“What if I cry on command right now?”

The girl just shrugs. “But I wouldn’t be sure if it was you really being an actor,” she says, “or you trying to cover up your real tears from me seeing through your ruse.”

He huffs, exasperated, and she smiles at him. “Is it really so hard to believe that I’m telling the truth?” he says. “Is being an actor and thinking you’re beautiful just mutually exclusive? Can’t I be both?”

“Actors don’t find me beautiful.”

“Well, that’s good. Means I don’t have any competition.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Competition? You think this is impressing me?”

“Definitely,” Percy says. “I think you admire my tenacity.”

The girl huffs out a laugh, but Percy can tell she’s still unconvinced. In a moment of bravery, he reaches out across the table and takes her hand.

“I just want to know your name,” he says.

Her gaze drops to their enjoined hands. He can’t read her expression: the lights on the ceiling reflect off her glasses, partially veiling her face. Through them, he can see her eyes flicker with indecision, as if she’s thinking. He can almost hear the cogs in her head turning.

Finally, she flicks her eyes up to meet him. There’s something almost defiant in her gaze now. “Annabeth,” she says.

“What?”

“That’s my name,” she says. “Annabeth.”

Annabeth. Percy hasn’t heard that name before.

“Annabeth,” he says, trying it out on his tongue: _Annabeth_. He likes it. It suits her. He smiles at her, and squeezes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Annabeth.”

She gives him a look, something all too knowing considering they are still virtual strangers, and gently withdraws her hand. “You too,” she says. “ _Percy_.”

Percy’s never thought he had a particularly nice name, not until it came out of her mouth like that.

She looks back down at her book, as though she thought that would be enough for him, as if she thinks that she isn’t the most important thing he’s got going on right now. She doesn’t know half of it. He’s just getting started with knowing her. He leans across the table, levering himself on his elbows. “So,” he says, drawling the ‘o’. He feels as though he’s got all the time in the world with her. “ _Annabeth_. What are you reading?”

He loves the way her name sounds. He holds it close to his chest, like something coveted.

She looks up at him. “You’re still here?” she says. Initially, Percy is a little hurt, until he sees the edge of something mischievous tug at the edge of her mouth – a smile. She’s liking this as well, this flirty banter. He tries not to let his smile grow embarrassingly wide.

“Getting your name was just the first step,” he says.

“What’s your end goal?”

“Preferably, married with thirteen children,” Percy says, and Annabeth barks out a surprised laugh. “But I’ll be content with just your telephone number.”

“ _Thirteen_!” she says. “God bless your future wife.”

“I want enough for a soccer team. With subs, of course. I’m responsible.”

“Of course,” Annabeth agrees. “But why stop at thirteen? Why not twenty?”

“Twenty? Don’t be unrealistic, Annabeth.”

She laughs.

He sits back in his seat, grinning. “I like your laugh.”

She immediately stops, but her cheeks go red. “Don’t be cute,” is all she says, but she can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m always cute,” Percy says. He peers at her work. “What are you reading?”

“Why so interested?”

“Because I want to learn about you.”

Something in her expression softens at that, but it’s gone so fast he’s not sure if he just imagined it. “It’s just a book,” she says.

“About?”

“Ancient Grecian architecture.”

“That’s cool.”

“That’s cool,” Annabeth mimics. She shakes her head. “It’s more than cool.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You like architecture, then?”

Annabeth shrugs a little, but her cheeks have gone pink again. “I don’t know. I guess. Yeah. I don’t know, I guess it’s kind of dumb.”

“No, it’s not! That sounds awesome. Do you like buildings and stuff, then?”

She looks up at him. “You’re seriously asking me about architecture?”

“Why not?”

She stares at him for a few moments, before exhaling in disbelief and shaking her head. “What _are_ you?” she says.

“Interested in you.”

She gives him a look, but he thinks he’s got her. Something in her eyes eases. “Okay,” she says, like she’s indulging him. She opens her mouth, however before she can speak something over his shoulder cuts her off.

“Excuse me?”

Percy turns around. Behind him, looking a little fed up, is a woman, in a blue, collared shirt he vaguely recognises. When he looks closer, he realises it’s the uniform of the museum from across the street, and he frowns.

“Hello,” he says, a little uncertainly.

She gives a significant look to the blood on his face and shirt, and says, “Did you just come from the museum?”

“Uh, yes. Me and some friends.”

“One of our workers said that she lent you an ice pack, which she shouldn’t have done in the first place, but we had some visitors say that they saw you leave with it. Can we have it back?”

Oh, shoot!

Percy’s eyes widen as he looks down at his hands – which are decidedly very, very empty. He must have left it in one of the bookshelves! Panicked, he looks over his shoulder to see which shelf he’d come around when he’d spotted Annabeth, but suddenly they all look the same, and surround him from every angle. He can’t remember where he came from.

“Uh,” he says.

At that moment, Grover and Jason emerge from one of the sides. Jason has a few books tucked under one arm, and is animatedly chatting, as Grover looks seconds away from nodding off – but as soon as they spot him they both frown, concerned.

“Hey,” Jason says, as they approach. He looks at the woman. “Is there a problem?”

“Your friend lost a piece of company property,” the lady says.

Percy holds up his hands in defence. “Accidentally! I must have put it down somewhere. I’m really, really sorry.”

She _hmphs_ , unconvinced. “You’ll need to come with me.”

Jason frowns. “Why?”

“Because he stole company property, sir,” she says. “He needs to pay us back.”

Percy’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“It’s an ice pack!” Grover says, indignantly. “How much can it cost?”

“Besides,” Jason says, “he was very seriously injured in your establishment! Look at all this blood! Doesn’t that mean anything? He even suffered a mild concussion, didn’t you, Percy?”

“I saw his brains,” Grover says seriously.

The woman sighs, already done with them. “Sir, can you please just come back with me,” she says. “We’ll sort it out when we get there.”

Percy sees both Grover and Jason open their mouths to protest, but he has a feeling if they keep on arguing it’ll just end up with them getting arrested. He stands up before either of them can get them into any more trouble. “Guys, it’s okay,” he says. “Let’s just go. It’s not worth it.”

Reluctantly, they quieten, but Grover gives the lady an impressively dirty look. Jason just folds his arms, and shakes his head. “This is outrageous,” he says. “Our lawyer will be hearing about this.”

The woman rolls her eyes.

Percy pushes his chair back under the table, and then spares a glance at Annabeth, who’s still sat down. He’s afraid she’ll be disgusted – what kind of criminal must she think he is, stealing museum company? – but she seems to be more amused than anything, pinching her lips to suppress a smile as her eyes sparkle with delight.

Just looking at her, Percy is suddenly struck with a sense of sadness. “Will I see you again?” he asks her, surprising even himself. He didn’t expect that to come out of that mouth.

But Annabeth seizes a pen and leans across the table, grabbing his hand. She scrawls a number on his arm. “Call me,” she says.

“I will,” Percy says. “Thirteen kids, right?”

She smirks at him. “Good luck with your ‘audition’.”

“Sir?” the lady says impatiently.

Percy is grinning so widely that he doesn’t even protest when he turns away to follow her out.

From behind him, he hears Grover whisper to Jason, “We don’t have a lawyer.”

“Luke does,” Jason whispers back. “He’ll probably let us borrow it if we have to.”

*

Percy calls Annabeth almost as soon as he gets back to Luke’s.

“Hello?” she says when she picks up over the line. It can’t have been three hours since they talked but Percy still feels a flutter in his stomach at the sound of her voice.

“Annabeth! Hey. It’s Percy. From the library.”

“Percy?” Her voice takes on an amused tone. “I don’t remember a Percy.”

Percy frowns. “We met this afternoon.”

“Funny, the only thing I can remember from the library is this guy coming up to me pretending to be an actor.”

Percy rolls his eyes and tries to suppress a smile. “Sounds like a tool.”

“You don’t know half of it. _I’m in New York for an audition... I think you’re beautiful... by the way, did you know I was an actor and I composed most of Mozart’s symphonies_?”

“ _Most_? Loser.”

Annabeth laughs. “Not impressed?”

“I know a guy who composed _all_ of Mozart’s symphonies. And he actually is an actor, to boot, who thinks you’re beautiful.”

“You’ll have to give me his telephone number.”

“I think he tried calling you. Shame you picked up my call, though. Guess you’re stuck chatting with me.”

She laughs over the line, and lets out a sigh of faux-resignation. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

At that moment, Leo decides to sidle up next to him, clearly unaware he’s interrupting a phone call. “Percy,” he says, “can you please tell Grover that he can’t expect us to eat rabbit food for dinner? It’s discrimination!”

“Who’s that?” Annabeth says.

“No one,” Percy says, and pulls the phone away from his ear. “Dude. A little busy.”

Leo gives him a look. “You’re not too busy for protecting our virtue. I swear there’s a condition where you turn orange from eating too many carrots.”

“That can’t be a real thing.”

“I think it is. We’re all going to get back to Delaware orange. They’ll have to postpone filming so we can flush all the carrot out of our system, because apparently _Grover eats nothing else_.”

He shouts this last part, evidently so Grover can hear. Mournfully, Grover calls back, “I refuse to eat living things! They have souls!”

Leo gives Percy a look, like _get a load of that_. “Loser,” he says, fondly. “Come on, we need to form a defence against him. I think Luke is caving and he promised to make us spag bol tonight.”

Percy gestures to the phone. “I’m busy, Leo.”

Finally, Leo seems to realise that he’s just interrupted a phone call. Unfortunately, this also means that he probably won’t be leaving anytime soon, because a smile of disbelief stretches across his face. “Percy, do you have a _lady caller_?”

“What? No,” Percy immediately denies, but he feels his cheeks grow hot. “It’s... my mom.”

“Uh-huh,” Leo says. He gives a significant look to the phone. “Tell your mom hi. And tell her if she feels like... not having you as a son anymore, you have a hot friend who... is in need of a mom.”

Percy squints at him. “I feel like you should walk away before that gets any more uncomfortable.”

“Rodger that,” Leo says, with a salute, and then walks away with a salacious wink. “Get it, Perce!”

Percy rolls his eyes and turns back to the phone. “Sorry about that.”

Annabeth sounds like she’s suppressing a laugh. “Your mom?”

“I panicked.”

“You can’t possibly be an actor and also that bad at lying. Although,” she adds lightly, “I’m impressed with how far you’re going with this ruse. _Postpone filming_? Did you brief everyone? ‘I’m pulling a long con on a girl, play along?’”

Percy grins, and leans against a wall. “Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I’m telling the truth. Maybe you’ll just have to trust me.”

Her voice comes out soft. “Maybe.”

They fall into silence for a few moments. For a few moments, all Percy can hear is her breathing across the line. It’s almost intimate, how close they feel.

“So,” he says. “I was thinking.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Har-dee-har, architecture girl. How would you like to go out with me tomorrow?”

“So soon?” Her voice is delighted. “My, how _uncouth_.”

“Maybe I just missed your face.”

“You saw me three hours ago.”

“Only for twenty minutes. I want to spend a day with you.”

“Oh, yeah?” He can hear the smile in her voice. “What are you thinking, then, Actor Percy?”

“I was thinking maybe a tour. You’re not from here, are you?”

“No. Moved here this summer.”

“I can give you a tour, then! Show you some of the best places – like, there’s a place that does the best frozen yoghurt, it’s near my mom’s house, and then we could get some pizza – oh, street pizza! Have you ever had street pizza before?”

She laughs. “I haven’t.”

“You need to! I’ll introduce you. It’s like a religious experience.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He leans against the wall, presses his thumbnail against the pad of his index finger. “What do you say?”

“About the pizza?” Her voice is teasing.

“About going out with me tomorrow.”

Annabeth hums contemplatively, and there’s a rustle like she’s just rolled over on her bed. “Sounds good,” she says. She sounds like she’s aiming for blasé, but he can pick up an undercurrent of excitement in her voice, and it fills him with something like elation. They can only have known each other for twenty minutes, half an hour, at most, but there’s just something about her, something Percy can’t shake off, that he just wants to get to know, turn inside out and memorise. By the smile in her voice, he’s not the only one, either.

Percy bites down on a grin. “Okay,” he says. “Uh... meet at noon? At the library?”

“Okay,” Annabeth says softly.

“Okay,” he says again. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. All he knows if that he doesn’t really want to hang up the phone just yet.

For a long moment, Annabeth doesn’t respond, and they just exist over the line, breathing. Distantly, Percy can hear the chirp of birds from her end. From his, she must be able to hear laughter from the boys in the living room, still arguing over dinner.

Then, finally, Annabeth says, “See you tomorrow, Percy.”

“See you tomorrow,” Percy says. And because he can’t help himself: “Have a good night.”

He hears her smile. “Yeah,” she says. “You, as well.”

For a few moments, they just stand there, in silence. And then Annabeth hangs up.

Percy lets the grin that’s been threatening to split his face escape. He leans against the wall with a happy sigh.

Tomorrow is going to be a good day.

*

Percy heads to the library bright and early the next morning. It was a nippy, unforgiving night, so much so that the boys had to shut the windows so they could fall asleep, but the morning dawned cool and dry; all that’s left is a chill. Percy spends an almost humiliating amount of time trying to decide what to wear. He’d asked for help, and then immediately regetted it.

“You should wear a hat,” Connor says, decisively.

“Do not wear a hat,” Travis says, “your hair is your best feature.”

“Just be yourself,” Grover says nicely over breakfast.

“Do not, under any circumstances, act like yourself,” Leo threatens as he pulls on his socks. “You’re embarrassing to be around. For example, that scarf. Be suave. Take off the scarf.”

“Maybe a tie?” Jason says, as he ties his laces. “A tie shoes that you’re serious.”

Percy doesn’t even try ask Luke. Instead, he just puts on his nicest sweater, the one he was planning on wearing to the audition, a pair of jeans, and ultimately ends up forgoing the scarf. (His inner monologue is slowly beginning to sound more and more like Leo’s voice. Percy pretends that has no factor in not wearing the scarf.) He stares at himself in the mirror, and says, “You’ve _got_ this.”

His reflection stares back earnestly at him. He nods, smartly, and then heads out of the door.

Annabeth is sat on the steps of the library when Percy arrives. He slows as he nears, taking her in. She’s wearing a pink poodle skirt that shows a lot of her long, tanned legs and her blonde hair has been pulled back in a ponytail with a ribbon of the same colour. Her brows are furrowed in concentration as she reads the book she has tucked in her lap, elbows folded in, ankles crossed. She looks like a painting.

She must hear his footsteps as he nears because she looks up as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. When she sees him, her face softens in a smile. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Percy says. “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

Annabeth closes her book, tucking it in her bag, and descends the steps until she’s on the last step. Here, she can look at him in the eyes without having to tilt her head. Percy doesn’t doubt he’ll get drop-kicked if he mentions how cute he finds it, so instead he just offers her his hand. Her face softens in surprise, and when she looks at him her eyes are wide with something almost like disbelief, but it quickly turns into a smile. She accepts it, and skips down the last step.

“Don’t worry,” she says. She doesn’t let go of his hand: instead, she laces their fingers properly, and squeezes. “Take me on an adventure.”

And so Percy does.

*

Percy always forgets how much he loves New York.

There’s just something about it, about the crush of the busy streets, the sights and smells and noises, the push and pull of a city filled with so many different things. Seeing Annabeth experience it all for the first time is nothing short of beautiful. He takes her to places he think she’d like: a café, with a dictionary sliced up and pasted on the walls; a park, where the crocuses are slowly beginning to curl out from underground; a flea market, where his mom got most of their furniture.

Annabeth traces the dictionary and teasingly tucks a crocus in Percy’s hair, but she _loves_ the market. Annabeth in a flea market feels like the strangest of juxtapositions: stranger, how she so seamlessly slots in, how her laugh fragments across all the reflective surfaces in the antique stall. Percy learns that she explores with her hands, picks things up, turns them over. There’s a conch shell that she cups to her ear, a floral soap dish she picks up and holds to the light, so it spills through the drainage holes in three slashes across her face. Percy’s never been a very poetic person, but just watching Annabeth explore, he feels like he could be.

Predictably, she finds her way over to an old bookseller, piles of rust-coloured books stacked precariously against the back wall. “Hello!” she says to the seller. “Can I have a look?” She is the brightest thing.

The seller shrugs. “Do what you want.”

Percy leans against the stall, and then immediately rights himself when he feels it wobble ominously. The seller gives him an evil eye that he pretends not to see. Annabeth is oblivious. “Have you read this?” she says to him, waving a book in his face.

“I’m flattered you asked that.”

She gives him a look that’s belied by the fond look in her eyes. “You should,” she says, “it’s very good.” She picks up another. “Coleridge! My dad loves him.”

“Who’s Coleridge?”

“He’s a poet. Have you heard of _The_ _Rime of the Ancient Mariner_?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s a famous poem. You should read it!” Her face brightens, and she turns to the seller. “How much?”

Percy’s eyes widen. “Oh, you really don’t—”

“Two dollars,” the seller says.

“We met in a library,” Annabeth says. “It’s a memento!”

“I think I distinctly remember telling you I wasn’t in the habit of frequenting libraries.”

“Libraries aren’t all bad. After all, we met in one.” Then the tips of her ears go pink and she stares own at the cover of the book, as though she’s afraid she’s been overhasty in her words. Percy doesn’t know how to tell her that even if he somehow aces the audition and lands the role she will be what he remembers from this trip, so instead he nudges her and says, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I also have to like the books.”

The tension breaks, and she rolls her eyes. “Think of it as a thank-you. Done,” she adds, to the seller, and opens her bag, digging around for her purse. To Percy: “I think you’ll like it.”

“That’s... okay,” Percy says lamely, as she hands the seller the money, and then picks up the book. “Thanks.”

She smiles at him. “Just give it a go.”

He’s useless against her smile. “Fine,” he says. And then: “You know, I am open to thank-yous in other forms.”

She closes her bag, gives him a look. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm. I can give you a few ideas, if you’re struggling to come up with anything.”

She tilts her head, long blonde ponytail swinging. Her eyes have a mischievous glint in them. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she says, and then takes his hand. “Come on, I want to see if I can get anything for my friend.”

Percy lets her drag him away. He feels her touch like a brand, like it’s growing roots into him, anchoring them together. They both know this has an expiration date – Percy is leaving in two days – and he’ll be left in Delaware picking pieces of her out of his teeth like candy, but as Annabeth dances around the market, trailing her fingers over everything she passes, stopping at a stall that sells hand-made jewellery and awing at the selection, it becomes increasingly hard to remember. “They’re made from recycled metal,” the vendor tells her, and Annabeth picks up a pair of earrings the colour of a bronzed sunset, identical enough to be a pair but each other slightly different in the way that betrays its lack of factory manufacturing, and Percy watches her discuss with the vendor how much they are and thinks, _I don’t want to leave you_. They’re still holding hands.

Annabeth hands her over the money, and as the vendor sorts himself with packing them away, she glances over at him. Whatever she sees on his face, her expression softens, and she squeezes his hand, her smile wry as if she can hear what he’s thinking. Then the vendor hands her a small paper bag and Annabeth turns back to him, thanking him profusely.

Percy thinks, _I could fall in love with you_.

*

Initially, Percy intends to be back to Luke’s by dinner, but when they emerge from the flea market, squinting in the dying sunlight from hours of being under umbrellas, it’s already six o’clock, and even thinking about leaving right now opens a pit in Percy’s stomach. He glances at Annabeth, who looks as reluctant as he feels, and says, “Dinner?”

Her face softens in relief. “Dinner,” she agrees. So they get pizza.

They eat it on the side of the road, perched on the curb, the pizza box lying between them. (They have the same order – pepperoni and olive. Percy has to actively remind himself he’s leaving in two days.) Annabeth tucks her feet close to her, like she did that morning, on the steps of the library. Percy stretches his legs out; his feet naturally roll in, tucking the toe of one of his sneakers under the heel of the other. Privately, he loves the contrast between the two of them: the neat pressed lines of Annabeth’s skirt, the scuff of his shoes. It makes him feel as though they fit together.

Annabeth picks an olive off her pizza and puts it in her mouth. “Favourite colour?”

“Blue.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Terminator.”

Annabeth laughs. “You’re such a _boy_.”

“What’s yours?”

“I don’t know. Ferris Bueller, maybe.”

“Lame.”

She bumps her knee against his, teasing. “Whatever,” she says. She takes another bite of her pizza. “If you weren’t here right now, where would you be?”

“At my friend’s apartment,” Percy says. “Going over my audition piece.” He gives her a nudge at that, and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “What, no rebuttal? I think you’re beginning to believe me.”

“You wish,” she counters, but when she bumps her knee against his again she keeps it there, their thighs touching. “Humour me, then. What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“The audition piece.”

“It’s for a Zeus Olympus film.”

“Of course it is.”

“Big action epic. Lots of explosions, death, destruction, you know how it is with us boys.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Sounds fun.”

“No, I’m kidding. It is Zeus Olympus, though. I don’t know much about it, just that it’s about the relationship between a son and his dad, who’s addicted to drugs. A bit of a serious one, I guess.”

Annabeth gives him a look, one he can’t quite place. “Do you like doing stuff like that? Serious pieces?”

“I don’t know. This would be my first one. I think I’m better at comedy. Or drama, or whatever. But I’m excited to try something new. Expand my horizons, you know?”

“I get that.” Annabeth picks at her crust. “Are you feeling prepared for it? The audition?”

“I think so. I’ve done all I can.” He nudges her, gently. “Hanging out with you has been a nice reprieve.”

She ducks her head, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks have gone pink. “Whatever,” she says. She throws the crust back in the box. “Let’s get dessert.”

It’s eight pm. Percy should be heading home. They probably all think he’s dead.

“Okay,” he says.

Winter is beginning to finally beginning to shed its skin, but a March evening without a jacket is still a cold one. Still, they go against their better judgment and get frozen yoghurt from an ice cream store off the main street – lemon for Annabeth, chocolate for Percy – and then wander around for a place to sit. Percy just watches Annabeth press her hand against a bench to see if it’s dry, sees the streetlamps that are beginning to turn on reflected in her eyes, and tries not to think too hard about having to leave this behind.

Eventually, they stumble across a fountain in the middle of a stone-bricked plaza, tucked somewhere behind a French restaurant. Annabeth sits cross-legged on the edge of it, her yoghurt up resting against one knee, staring almost unseeingly out across the square, her eyes thoughtful. Percy sits next to her. It’s beginning to darken. In the night, her eyes almost look black.

They sit for a few moments in silence. Oddly, Percy doesn’t mind. After a day of noise, he likes this quietness, this sense of stillness between the two of them. He finds he can sit like this for a long time and he wouldn’t mind. Nothing feels awkward, with Annabeth.

Still:

“Tell me something,” Percy says.

Annabeth’s eyes clear. She doesn’t look at him, but she smiles. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like... a secret. What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

Annabeth hums around her spoon. “I’ve dated one guy,” she says.

Percy glances at her. “You’ve never told anyone that before?”

“Just you.”

“Why?”

She looks at him for a long moment. “You won’t tell anyone?”

“Cross my heart,” Percy promises.

Annabeth huffs a laugh, and then looks back out at the courtyard. “It was an actor.”

“An actor?”

“A famous one.” Annabeth tucks her legs closer to her. “He didn’t want people knowing, so the press wouldn’t find out.”

“Oh.” Percy thinks about this as he takes another mouthful of frozen yoghurt. “Did it not work out?”

“We broke up when we left for New York. Said he couldn’t do long-distance.”

Percy can’t see how that’s possible. He thinks he’d be content if the only piece he ever got of Annabeth was her voice once a day over the telephone. He glances at her.

“Is that why you’re here?” he says. “In New York?”

Annabeth shakes her head before he’s even finished. “No,” she says immediately. “Never for him.”

There’s a story. Percy waits. Swirls his yoghurt.

After a few moments, he hears Annabeth exhale. “He... – my ex, I mean. He always acted—as though, he was the only one with a future. And I’m smart. I’m... I’m really smart. But he broke up with me right before I did my ACTs.” She raises a shoulder. “It’s—I’m still angry, about that. At him, and me. Him, for being so selfish to do that to me. Me, for letting him.” She shakes her head in disgust. “I didn’t do as well as I hoped.”

“Didn’t you get accepted anywhere?”

“No, I did. A few places wanted me. But it’s been my dream since I was eleven to go to Cornell. It’s where my mom went. It was always the plan. Graduate, get into Cornell, move to New York. Start a life. But then I— then I bombed the ACT, so I. Took a gap year.”

Percy watches her. “You didn’t want to go to any other place?”

Annabeth turns to him, her eyes wide. “I knew I could do it, Percy. I just— I _knew_ that Cornell was where I was meant to be. And I was so angry at him for making me lose it and... I don’t know. I think it’s been good for me, taking time off. But that dream never died. So I moved here when I graduated. I’m living with one of my uncles. I work part-time, saving up, you know. And I’m... I’m resitting the ACT, when I can. And then I’m going to get in.”

She sighs. “And... I guess there is something, maybe a little—angry, still. I don’t know. I’ve never dictated my life around a boy. And I don’t ever want to. But there’s something—ugly, and prideful, that I’m here. So in the one-in-a-million chance I see him again, I can—I don’t know. Show him. That I did something with my life other than sit around in Virginia and wait for him to come back. I moved here, and I’m making a life for myself. That I’m better than what he thought, that I could _achieve_ something as well.”

Percy watches her. She picks at her frozen yoghurt, her cheeks pink. When he had seen her across the room in the library, what feels like a year ago, he had only seen her in two dimensions: just her blonde hair, painted nails, hair ribbon. Now it’s like he’s seeing her again for the first time, but in startling clarity. He was a fool for ever thinking she was nothing more than a beautiful face. She is a microcosm of something so much bigger, something transcendent, something he can’t really comprehend.

She’s consummate.

He doesn’t know how to say that, though. So instead he turns back to his own yoghurt and says, “He sounds like an asshole.”

Annabeth exhales a laugh. “Yeah,” she says. “You could say that.”

“Is that why you dislike actors?”

She gives him a look. “I don’t dislike actors.”

Percy gestures to himself. “Exhibit A.”

“Well, luckily, you’re not an actor,” she says, and taps him on the nose with her spoon. It’s enough to startle a laugh out of him, and she looks so pleased that he has to turn away. He’s afraid if she keeps smiling at him like that he won’t be able to say goodbye at the end of the night. “Besides,” she adds, in a softer voice, and when he glances over at her, she’s resolutely looking down at her cup, her cheeks tinged pink. “I like you very much.”

Percy doesn’t know what to say in response that won’t make him seem irrefutably stupid. So instead he says, “Would I know him?”

“Who?”

“Your... ex.”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Can I ask who it is?”

Annabeth sighs, and takes another spoonful of her yoghurt. “Did you ever see ‘The Golden Apple’?”

And something in Percy turns to ice.

“Uh,” he says, and his voice feels strangely untethered, like it doesn’t belong to him anymore. “Yeah. Is—is he in it?”

“You know the—the main guy? The blond one? With the—scar?”

Oh, _Annabeth_.

Annabeth stabs at her ice cream. “That’s him. Luke Castellan.”

He doesn’t know what to say to her. He stares down at his feet.

“I should have seen it coming,” she says. “He was always—too good for me.”

“He’s not,” Percy starts.

“I know,” Annabeth says. “Or, I do now. And it wasn’t—it wasn’t like I didn’t then, either. He just acted like it. Like a quiet air of superiority, almost. Like everything that came out of my mouth was stupid.”

Percy knows the feeling. “Yeah,” he says.

She clears her throat. “This is depressing,” she says. “Let’s not talk about my ex anymore. Tell me a secret. Something you’ve never told anyone.”

And Percy should tell her about Luke. About how, when they separate this evening, he’s going to have to go back to Luke’s shiny silver apartment with his shiny silver cutlery and his four thousand-dollar couches, and have to look at him in the eyes when he asks how the date went and not sock him in the face. About the months he’s spent watching him on set, the way he flirts with the pretty extras like he’s got something to prove, like they’re food on a table he’s trying to get to first, how he’s magnetic in all the wrong ways, how he buys fruit for Grover to assert his dominance over a trolley lady who watched one of his movies. How he could never be good enough for Annabeth because she’s everything special about the world and Luke is as chintzy and practical as his gold kitchen.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tells her a story of how he and one of his friends growing up accidentally broke one of his mom’s vases, the nice one, with the ceramic roses on it, and Percy got so scared that she would be angry that they swept up all the pieces from the floor and threw them out the window, out of sight, out of mind. In hindsight, his mom definitely knew, because the vase was her pride and joy, but she never mentioned it, and Percy remembers being eleven and certain he’d gotten away with it. It was a couple of years later over dinner when his mom made a vague reference to it and then they’d both made eye contact that he’d realised that she’d known all along.

Annabeth laughs and laughs and laughs, and Luke Castellan is forgotten. By her, anyway. Luke sits, an ugly needlepoint, in the back of Percy’s mind, for the rest of the evening.

*

Percy insists on walking her home.

“You don’t have to,” Annabeth says.

“Of course I do,” Percy says. “It’s my duty.” And I don’t want to say goodbye just yet, he doesn’t say. Annabeth picks it up, though, because she’s Annabeth, and her face softens.

“Okay,” she says softly. She tucks her hand in the crook of his arm, presses against his side. “Let’s go.”

They walk in comfortable silence, slowly, desperate to cling to whatever time they have left with each other. The day has loosened Annabeth, pulled the hair around her face from her ponytail, smudged her makeup around her eyes. There hasn’t been a moment today where she hasn’t been beautiful, but privately Percy thinks he likes this version the best: tired, happy, rumpled, something uncovered just for him. She is tucked against his side, warm and comforting, but as they move she buries herself closer and closer, as if she’s trying to meld them together. Percy can’t say he minds.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, he says, “Hey, Annabeth?”

“Mm?”

“Tell me a story.”

She squints up at him. “About what?”

“Anything. Make something up.”

She hums, thoughtfully. Her hand tightens on his arm. “Okay,” she says. “Well, once upon a time there was a girl called Annabel.”

Amused, Percy says, “Annabel?”

“Yes, Annabel. Is there a problem?”

“No, none.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m sure any similarities to real life are just coincidences.”

“Of course. You shouldn’t expect anything less.” Annabeth jostles him, teasing. “Well, Annabel had a pretty good life. She was good at school, had good friends, a nice family. But when was twelve her mom left. Annabel never really found out why. Her dad would never tell her. So Annabel thought it was her fault.”

Percy glances down at her. Annabeth doesn’t meet his eyes, but she squeezes his arm.

“Annabel started working hard,” she says. “She wanted to prove something – to herself, her mom, everyone around her – that she was good enough. Because there was always something in the back of her head, something niggling, that said that—that if she worked hard, really hard, then maybe her mom would see that she was good enough, and she’d come back.”

“How did that work out?”

“Not good,” Annabeth confesses, and Percy huffs out a laugh. “She—worked herself to the bone. She was getting good grades but everything else was kind of falling apart. She didn’t have many friends anymore, and her dad was becoming distant because she was just a reminder of his failed marriage. And then she met... Liam.”

“Liam,” Percy says.

“Yes, Liam.”

“Liam what?”

“Liam... Castledon.”

Percy barks out a laugh. “Sounds like an asshole.”

“Annabel didn’t think so. Not at first. Because Liam was handsome and he had a car and called her pretty, and when you’re sixteen that’s sort of all you want in a guy. He held her hand and took her out on dates and she was happy, and—” Annabeth sighs. “Well, Annabel thought she was in love.

“But Liam, he wanted to be an actor. Annabel knew he was destined for something bigger than Virginia but she knew that she was, too, and she thought that they could get out of there together. But Liam didn’t think so. He packed his bags, broke her heart, and left to New York.”

Percy’s heard this bit before; it’s not new. It still makes his fists clench. “Sounds like a dick.”

Annabeth huffs out a humourless laugh. “Yeah. And... Annabel was devastated. She really loved Liam. Or at least she thought she did. And she—she never knew for sure, but she always had a suspicion he timed it right. To leave and disable her in one fell swoop. She failed her ACTs and didn’t get into her dream school.

“She cried, a lot. For Liam and her failed dreams. But then she sat herself down and thought, I can sit here moping. Or I can work hard, and try again. So she waitressed, saved up enough money, and flew to New York to move in with her uncle. She worked three jobs and spent her spare afternoons in the library studying for the ACT.”

This is the part he’s been waiting for her. Percy glances at her. “Then what?”

Annabeth gives him a half-smile. “Then one day, she was in the library, and then a boy came up to her. He had a busted nose and blood all the way down his shirt, and the most—beautiful eyes she had ever seen.”

Percy exhales a laugh. He feels like he can’t breathe. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He told her—he told her she was beautiful. And she didn’t want to fall for it, at first, because she knew there had to be a catch, because she’d come across boys before, boys with pretty eyes who told that they thought she was something special, but the universe would never be so kind to drop a boy like this in front of her, a boy covered in blood whose smile could—could light up one hundred rooms.” She lets out a laugh. “And then he told her that she was an actor.”

“There’s the catch,” Percy says.

“She knew it was coming!”

“Those pesky actors.”

“Nightmares, they are.” Annabeth shakes her head, smiling. “But Annabel thought he was! She thought, this is a sign. This is a warning, that someone like this would never work, because she’d known a boy who was an actor, who’d broken her heart in pursuit of a dream, who thought she was nothing because he was—shinier. Newer. When the boy told her that he was an actor she thought, this is a sign. But he—he didn’t give up.

“He asked her about what she was reading. He sounded interested in the answer. So when he got dragged out of the library by a museum employee because he stole company property—”

“Accidentally!” Percy protests. “I didn’t mean to steal it!”

“Whatever you say.”

“You know they charged me five dollars for that?”

Annabeth coos at him, rubbing his arm. “Poor baby.”

“It’s a bag full of ice. That can’t have cost them more than a few cents.”

“How _ever_ will your big buck actor paycheque handle that?”

Percy scoffs. “Was Annabel at least impressed by his bad boy tendencies?”

“She was. A real turn-on, it was, seeing a boy steal an ice pack.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me now.”

“Never.” Briefly, she presses her cheek against his shoulder. “It was enough for her to give him her telephone number, after all.”

“Must’ve impressed her at least a little, then.”

“Just a little. But she’d never tell.”

Percy smiles.

“Annabel thought she wouldn’t hear from him,” Annabeth says. “At least, not for a couple of days, if ever. She knew boys. They like to play the waiting game. Liam would always wait a while. She always thought he was playing hard to get, teasing her, a little. Looking back, she thinks—that he wanted her to feel inferior. Like she had to learn to play second-fiddle to the rest of his life. But the boy—he called only a few hours later. Asked her if she wanted to spend the day with him. And Annabel, she thought—she thought, I’m done with being stepped on by boys. And I’m done with one asshole from a year ago still holding me hostage. So she said yes.”

“Did she have a good time?” Percy says.

Annabeth looks up at him, for the first time since they started walking. Her eyelashes cast dark shadows down her cheeks from the lamppost above them. “Yeah,” she says softly, and for the first time Percy realises just how close they are. “She did.”

They come to a stop in front of a red-brick apartment block, now a dark maroon in the night. There are a few squares of light above; Annabeth’s flyaways look white against them.

“Well,” she says. “This is me.”

“You didn’t finish your story,” Percy says. “What happened after?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you do now.”

He takes her hands. Their noses are a whisker apart. “I’m leaving in two days,” he says.

Annabeth exhales. They both knew it, but Percy saying it feels so final. He’d sort of spun himself into a world where he wasn’t going, where they had endless time to get to know each other and visit markets and talk about Coleridge. He can’t take it back, now.

“Sorry,” he adds, lamely.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not sorry,” she says. “Are you?”

“About what?”

“About—today. Spending it together. Are you sorry about that?”

“No,” he says, immediately.

Annabeth nods. “Good,” she says, and then, softer: “That’s good.” She looks down, turns his hand over in hers, traces the line in his palm. “I had a really lovely time today.”

“Me, too,” Percy says.

“Thanks for asking me out.”

“Thanks for saying yes. I probably wouldn’t have.”

Annabeth huffs out a laugh. “Normally, me either. Especially not when someone is covered in blood.”

“You say that, but I think that’s what drew you in. Created a sense of intrigue.”

“Whatever helps you sleep,” she teases, lightly. She traces his palm again. Her touch is featherlight.

“Maybe I’ll land a movie that’s filming in New York,” Percy says.

“Maybe,” Annabeth says. She squeezes his hand again, and then steps back. “Thank you for today.”

Percy feels a rush of air spill into his lungs. He hadn’t realised that he was holding his breath. With her so close it felt hard to remember to do anything, let alone breathe. “It’s okay,” he says. He pats his bag, lamely. “Thanks for the book.”

“Read it,” Annabeth says. “It’s good.”

Percy’s never voluntarily read a book in his life. But he thinks he just might. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay.”

For a few moments, they both stand, staring at each other. In the back of his head, Percy can hear a voice scream at him, _kiss her! Don’t let her go!_ He wishes he was brave enough to. He wishes he was suave enough to sweep her off her feet, dip her into a kiss, leave an impression on her so deep that she will never be able to love another man who isn’t him ever again. But he’s not: he’s just Percy, with a swollen nose, who will fade to a nice enough memory, a boy with nice eyes who bought her frozen yoghurt one afternoon.

And it hurts, but he’s content with that.

“I’ll see you around,” he says.

Annabeth smiles at him, wryly. “Yeah,” she says. “Maybe.”

He nods, swings on his heels – and then turns away. He can’t look at her any longer or he doesn’t think he’ll be able to leave. How strange, that someone can so quickly capture him like this. How cruel, that it’s only for a few beautiful hours. The road ahead of him suddenly looks very sad. He takes a step.

And then: “Percy—”

He half-turns. Annabeth is coming towards him, and he barely has a second to comprehend what is happening before she is pushing herself onto her toes, hands braced on his shoulders, and kisses him.

For a split second, everything freezes, like he has just moved into slow-motion. And then, as quickly as it comes, it suddenly races into hyper speed, everything around him suddenly too bright and loud and just too much, and he closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her and kisses her back.

Percy doesn’t know how long they’re stood there, kissing. All he knows is that when Annabeth pulls back, still close enough that her wide grey eyes are all he can see in his line of vision it still feels too soon.

“Sorry,” she says, breathlessly. “Had to do that.”

He’s pretty sure his eyes are wide as plates. He sort of feels like he’s dying but in the best way. “It’s cool,” he manages. “Good, uh. Technique.”

Annabeth stares at him, wide-eyed, and nods. “Right,” she says. “You, too.”

“Cool.”

“Great.”

They both nod at each other. They’re still clinging onto each other. Percy’s fingers don’t seem to want to let go of her waist.

“Good luck with your audition,” Annabeth says. For the first time, she doesn’t sound mocking. Percy wonders when in the day she started to believe him. Then he thinks that maybe she believed him all along. He nods.

“Thanks,” he says. Takes a step back. It feels like the hardest thing. “Good luck with your exam.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“Thirteen kids,” Percy says. As a reminder, or a promise. He’s not sure.

“Enough for a soccer team,” Annabeth agrees.

“With subs.”

“Of course. We’re responsible.”

For a few moments, they stare at each other. This feels final, now. Complete.

Softly, Annabeth says, “Goodbye, Percy.”

“Goodbye,” he says. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

“Yeah,” she says. “That would be nice.”

The last thing he sees is her silhouette against the door. Then he turns away.

*

Most of the boys are asleep by the time Percy gets back to Luke’s.

He tries to be as silent as he can as he closes the door, but it’s useless, because Jason is already sitting up from where he’s situated on the sofa. “Percy?” he says blearily, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” Percy whispers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

Jason sits up properly now, adjusting his glasses. His hair is all smushed to one side and he has pillow creases on one cheek. “No, it’s okay. I was waiting for you. I tried reading but I fell asleep.”

Percy’s heart warms. “Aw, dude.”

“I had to see how your date went,” Jason says nobly.

“Shut up,” Travis hisses, across the room.

“Sorry!” Jason whispers. To Percy, he mouths, _come here_.

Percy toes off his shoes, drops his bag on the floor, and tiptoes over. He’s still in his jeans but Jason doesn’t seem to mind, shuffling up on the couch and patting the space next to him. Percy collapses in it. It’s still sleep-warm from Jason’s body, smells of his aftershave. From outside the window, the streetlamps cast strange shadows across their faces. Jason’s glasses fractalize the light into dozens of tiny glints.

“So?” Jason says. “Did it go well? You were out longer than we expected. Grover put up a fuss because he said if you were here he would have managed to convince us to get bean burritos for dinner.”

“That’s not true,” Percy says, “bean burritos are gross and they make Grover gassy.”

“Rude,” comes Grover’s voice sleepily from across the room.

“Go to sleep, Grover,” Jason says.

“Mmkay.”

They wait until Grover starts snoring again before Jason prompts, “The date?”

Percy collapses against the back of the sofa with a happy sigh.

Jason grins. “That good?”

“She’s perfect, man.”

“What did you do?”

“I don’t even know, dude. We just talked. For hours. We visited a flea market and she bought me a poetry book. Then we got pizza and frozen yoghurt.” Something in Percy’s stomach curdles as he remembers the ensuing conversation, but he swallows it back. He’s not going to Luke ruin an evening like this for him. “She’s... dude, I can’t tell you how amazing she is.”

“I’m glad,” Jason says, and he genuinely sounds like he means it. Sometimes Percy really loves Jason. “So, do you think you’re going to stay in touch?”

Percy sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“We’re leaving, Jason. In two days we’re back to Delaware. And she’s here to work and study. I can’t make her keep up with this. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Jason hums. “Yeah. I guess. That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Percy pulls his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around his knees. “Still. Today was worth it.”

Jason glances at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was... it was really good.”

Jason grins at him, and then claps a hand on his shoulder. “Get changed and get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Percy nods, and slips off the sofa towards the bathroom. Before he can open the door, however, Jason calls, “Hey, Percy?”

Percy turns.

“I’m happy for you,” he says. “Really.”

Percy smiles. “Thanks, man.”

Jason jerks his chin. “Get some rest.”

Percy slips into the bathroom with a smile on his face. It’s been a good day.

*

The audition is held in a small studio off a main road. They all catch the bus there, crammed up against each other in the rush hour, vibrating with nervous energy. A girl asks Luke for an autograph, asks Percy for the pen. Jason, who always keeps a spare in his jacket, is so wired he fumbles, drops it, then steps on it and breaks it in half. “Bother!” he says.

They arrive twenty minutes before Connor’s audition; he’s the first, of all of them. They sign it at a desk and are herded into a waiting room, filled with dozens of other boys their age, curled up on plastic chairs and reading over their scripts. Percy oddly feels like he’s waiting in line to get a doctor’s appointment, or something. It’s definitely not helped when Jason leans in to whisper in his ear, “The last time I was somewhere like this I got probed!”

“Okay,” Percy says.

The scene they were given to prepare was somewhere, Percy can only assume, near the beginning of the film: the lead character, Isaac, meets a girl in a bar, tries to pick her up. He’s read it so many times he has it memorised, feels like he could probably recite it backwards at this point, the edges of the page are beginning to fur with wear. It naturally falls into the folds he creased in it when Hermes first gave him the script, and the lines are beginning to tear now. He lets it, runs his fingernail over it. He knows he should be focusing on the audition. But all he can think about Annabeth.

He knows they’re probably never going to see each other again. He was just a piece of space rock, lucky enough to sling itself into her orbit for a day, and then fly off in the opposite direction. Parallel lines, or whatever. But he can’t help but feel a deep ache in his chest, like someone has just cracked his ribs open.

He can’t grieve a girl he knew for less than forty-eight hours. Apparently, his brain has other ideas.

Distantly, he becomes aware of Connor’s name getting called across the room. “Good luck, bro!” Leo says as he passes them towards the door. “You’ll do great,” Grover says. Luke just gives another one of his plastic smiles. Percy wonders if even his teeth are real.

“Thanks,” Connor says, with a grimace, and then he disappears into the room. The door closes on a voice saying, “Hello!”, and a couple of seats down Travis puts his head between his legs like he’s going to be sick.

Grover pats his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he’ll be great.”

“I’m not worried about him,” Travis says, voice muffled. “If his ugly mug lands it I owe him a thousand dollars. I hope he forgets his lines.”

“One thousand dollars?” Jason says.

“Have to keep the brotherly spark alive somehow.”

There’s more silence as they wait. No one really talks in audition rooms, Percy’s learnt. It’s not as if he was particularly in the habit of striking up conversation with strangers, anyway, but it still makes him twitchy, like they’re falling to their deaths and no one is really caring to stop it. He guesses maybe that’s a flawed metaphor. More like one of them will skyrocket to success. Percy honestly can’t say which one is worse.

One minute. Two. Four. Connor comes out, Travis goes in. Leo says, “How was it?”

“Okay,” Connor says. “I think.”

“That’s good,” Leo says. “Hope Travis does well too.”

“I don’t. If he gets the part I owe him one thousand dollars.”

“I really think you should both reconsider this,” Jason says. Percy tunes them out, tries not to think too hard about Annabeth’s smile.

Travis is in there for five minutes. The boy after him is only in for one. Luke’s turn, now, and he’s in there for ten. “Maybe he petrified them,” Leo says hopefully. “Like Medusa.”

“Yeah, with his charming smile,” Percy says, distracted. He’s coming up soon.

Luke comes out, sits down with the air of someone who knows something everyone else doesn’t. He’s still wearing his plasticky smile. Meanly, Percy hopes he wore it in.

“All good?” Leo says to him.

Luke shrugs modestly. “It was whatever,” he says. “Not my best work.”

There’s a window above them, small and rectangular, like the ones they put in school bathrooms to stop kids from climbing out. In its position, the sun only shines on a portion of the room: Luke is in it, obviously. Leo would probably say it’s only because it’s also shining out of his ass, and Percy would probably laugh. But now, he just watches Luke, as he folds his audition piece into the pocket of his jacket, carelessly, leans back in his chair, puts a stick of gum in his mouth: the illusion of indifference, even though Percy knows he’s holding himself deliberately, with every air and grace of a Roman emperor. He’s putting on a show for everyone else in the room, because he’s Luke Castellan, and his word is law.

Percy looks at him and thinks, _how sad your life must be._

Luke must feel his eyes on him, because he turns his head, catches his gaze. “Everything okay?” he says lightly.

“Yeah,” Percy says. “Everything’s good.”

A boy comes out from the audition room. Four minutes. It’s Grover’s turn now. Jason claps him on the shoulder, Percy pats him on the ass, and he’s off.

Percy’s next. He keeps his eyes on the clock.

One minute. Two. Four. Six. Grover’s out, looking nervous and sweaty. He grins shakily at them, as he comes nearer. “I think that well!” he says. He has sweat patches under his arms. “I’m going to go to the toilet and throw up.”

“Percy Jackson,” calls a voice, from the front of the room.

“Good luck!” says Jason.

Grover half-turns, as if he had forgotten he was there. “Yes, good luck!” he says.

“Thanks,” Percy says. Stands up. Makes himself walk.

The audition room is simultaneously less and also whole lot more nerve-wracking than he had imagined. It looks like an office, with all the tables cleared out: the carpet is close-knit and blue, like the kind you get in classrooms, and there’s a computer in the corner, switched off, half-turned away. The desk at the front of the room has around six people sitting at it – Percy only recognises one, Zeus Olympus, at the very end. It only serves to make him feel more ill.

“Percy Jackson?” says the lady in the middle. She looks the youngest. “Hi, I’m Artemis, the casting director.” She holds out her to shake; he does. “Headshot, resumé?”

Percy hands them over, they’re distributed across the table. It feels strange, seeing his own face smiling back at him, like a prized pig. He remembers trips to the market with his mom, where they would look at pumpkins, pick the biggest one. _I am the pumpkin_ , he thinks, wildly, and has to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

“ _Half-Blood_ ,” Artemis reads. She glances up at him. “Apollo Archer?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the fifth Half-Blood boy we’ve had today,” she says. “Did you all come together?”

“Apollo gave us some time off for it.”

“How is he?”

The question throws Percy a little. “He’s—good. I like him.”

Artemis nods thoughtfully. “He’s my brother,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

“Oh,” Percy says. He blinks. “That’s cool. Small world.”

“Good to see he’s not being a failure,” Artemis says. “You know he used to smoke cannabis and write poetry?” This is said directly to Percy. He blinks.

“I did—not,” he says.

“Mention it,” Artemis says.

Percy won’t. “Okay.”

Zeus speaks now. His voice is a lot deeper than Percy was expecting. He finds he can’t look at him for too long or his legs start shaking, so he focuses intently on his groomed beard. “You are trying for the role of Isaac Emery, correct?”

Percy nods.

“Well, then,” Zeus says. “Take it away.”

*

When Percy was twelve, he and his mom headed down to Montauk for a weekend. Her friend had a cabin there, was generous enough to lend it to them for a few days. Percy remembers the journey on the way there, the window open, feeling the wind on his face, tasting it on his tongue as it changed from city smog to seaside salt. The sky was grey and by the time they arrived it was lightly drizzling, but Percy remembers his mom whooping in excitement as they got off the train, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the beach. It was empty, because no one goes to a beach on a grey drizzly Thursday, but his mom stood up to her ankles in the ocean and stretched her arms up and Percy remembers thinking just how beautiful she was.

It took weeks to get rid of all the sand from his clothes. Even now, if Percy looks hard enough whenever he returns to his childhood bedroom, he can find little sand deposits in the corners of drawers, the grooves in the floorboards, the lining of the pockets in a pair of shorts.

He knows he’ll look back on this trip to New York like he looks back on the trip to Montauk. How they’ll be pieces of it still stuck to him like sand years from now, whenever he orders a pizza – pepperoni and olive – any time he visits a library, sees a girl with blonde hair on a train. In two, three, five years, he’ll look back, and maybe he won’t remember Annabeth’s face or the exact sound of her laugh but he’ll visit a flea market and remember how he felt in it, he’ll eat a frozen yoghurt and remember how her mouth tasted of vanilla, open a book and remember the Coleridge anthology tucked in his room, and he’ll be left, emptying her like sand from his socks, caught in the grains of the floorboards.

Percy don’t think he’ll ever forget Annabeth. She’ll be his biggest regret, his greatest satisfaction. No matter how much time passes, however many seasons weather it down, New York will always be stained with her memory. 

He looks down at the script in his hand, and then looks at the table. Suddenly, all he can see is her face.

Percy takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders back. Then he starts to speak.

*

**One year later**

The sign is uglier than Percy could have ever imagined.

Leo had warned him, over the telephone last night, that they’d be bringing one, and Percy had initially laughed it off. His mom is a sensible woman, he’d reasoned with himself, and she’d put a stop to anything too horrific. At worst, he’d been anticipating some awful childhood picture they’d unearthed, blown up and pasted on a poster board.

He’d clearly underestimated them.

“Oh my God,” he says, half to himself, as he passes through the barriers. Even the station worker stamping his ticket follows his eyeline, and smirks.

“They for you?” he says.

“Unfortunately,” Percy says.

The worker laughs and hands him back his ticket. “Good friends,” he says. Then, just as Percy is lugging his bag over the barrier: “Wife and I saw you in Drowning. You’re very good.”

Percy pauses, and feels his ears burn red. “Oh,” he says. “Thank you.”

The worker nods at him, and then turns to the next person in line. Still red-faced and flustered, both at the sign and the attention, Percy almost trips over his bag as he tries to haul it behind him.

Leo, Grover and Jason meet him at the railing, and engulf him in a hug as soon as he’s near enough. “Dude!” Jason says. “Welcome back!”

Percy grins at then. “Nice to see your ugly faces again.”

“Percy?”

Oh, shoot. “Mom!” he says. “You’re as beautiful as I ever remembered.”

Sally rolls her eyes, and hugs him too, kissing him on the forehead. “It’s good to see you again, love,” she says, and brushes a strand of hair off his forehead. “You need to get a haircut.”

“I’ve been a bit busy,” he says. “I’ll get on it.”

“Do that.” She pats his cheek, and then takes a step back, looking at him from head to toe. “Oh, you just get bigger and bigger every time I see you.”

“Growing.”

“Don’t cheek me.”

“You’re the one who let them out of the house with that sign!”

Jason grins, and hefts it up higher, as if it wasn’t already visible from space. It’s at least four feet long, covered in glitter and sequins, with a photo of Percy half-asleep, hunched over a cereal bowl, a dick drawn on his cheek. He vaguely remembers it being taken on _Half-Blood_ , the Stolls both cashing in to get it on a cake for his 20th. Privately, he’d hoped everyone would have forgotten by now that the picture even existed, but apparently not.

“We made it last night,” Grover says, proudly.

“I thought I said low-profile,” Percy says to Leo.

Leo just scoffs. “This _is_ low-profile. In the original you were drawn on the dick.”

“I wouldn’t let them do that,” Sally says. “I had to draw the line somewhere.” She wraps an arm around Percy’s waist, gives him a squeeze. He’s at least a head taller than her, now. “We all missed you, Percy. It’s good to have you back home.”

“Hell yeah!” Leo says, and Jason and Grover cheer. “Come on, let’s go get some food, I’m starving. We need to hear the hot gossip about everything going on! Your mom said we could go to that fancy Japanese place by her apartment.”

Percy glances at her. “Seriously? But that’s so expensive.”

Sally squeezes him again. “It’s not every day my boy comes back from a feature film with an _award_ ,” she says, her voice teasing. “I need to spoil you a little.”

“Besides,” Jason says, “you’re paying.”

Percy laughs. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Leo slings an arm over his shoulders, pushing him towards the exit. “Come on, Fancy Pants!” he says. “Let’s go!”

Laughing, Percy allows him to be elbowed out of the station. It’s been a while since he’s felt so genuinely happy – of course, shooting Drowning was amazing, but sort of in that detached _what-the-hell_ kind of way, where he had to pinch himself most days to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Surrounded by his favourite people – his mom, his best friends – on their way to eat overpriced Japanese food makes him happy in the way that he feels grounded, deep-rooted, like he did before everything started going crazy for him. He wouldn’t change what he’s got going on for the world; but it’s moments like these, moments where the insanity of his reality is soothed by the balm of his family, where he really, really appreciates it all the more.

Still, though, as he gets led out, something niggles in the back of his brain, something erratic and ceaseless and _loud_. Something that says, _there’s something missing. There’s still one piece left_.

It’s sort of been a constant, in his head, for just over a year now. Luckily, he’s gotten very good at ignoring it.

It’s fine.

 _He’s_ fine.

*

Percy misses a lot of things about being back home – but the one thing he does not miss are the early mornings.

“Sorry, honey,” Sally whispers, as he groggily blinks open his eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

But Percy’s already awake. In a small apartment, there are few things you can do that all its other occupants aren’t starkly aware of. Tiredly, he pushes himself to his elbows, scrubbing at his face. “Ugh, what time is it?”

“Nine am.”

“It’s _nine_?”

He hears her laugh, and he squints his eyes open to see her standing over him with a fond smile. She leans down, presses a kiss to his head. “You had a long journey.”

“Still.” He makes himself sit up, swings his legs over the edge of the sofa. His old room had just been repainted – he had to sleep on the sofa so he didn’t inhale paint fumes, or whatever. He doesn’t mind, much – the couch has always been comfy – but located in the living room, at the epicentre of an already small apartment, he can see and hear everything. “I’m awake now, anyway.”

He watches as Sally moves across the room, packing things in her bag. Distantly, he registers that she’s fully dressed.

“Where are you going?” he says.

“I need to head into the store today,” Sally says, as she shrugs on her coat. “You’re more than welcome to come, if you want.”

Percy scratches at his belly, considering. On one hand, it would mean extra sleep – but on the other, it’s been so long since he properly hung out with his mom. Mind already made up, he pushes himself off the sofa, towards the shower. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Give me a few minutes.”

The shower wakes him right up as it blasts a jet of cold water straight into his face. He’s gotten compliant – months of living in swanky hotel rooms have made him used to the luxury of expensive showerheads. He always forgets theirs needs a proper yank every now and then. It’s enough to get him in and out pretty quick, though, and within ten minutes he’s fully dressed, sipping from a mug of tea as his mom packs the last of her belongings.

“It’ll be nice to have you around,” she’s saying, as she looks for her keys. “Marianne misses you. She loved Drowning, she and her husband watched it as soon as it came out.”

Percy half-smiles at the image of his mom’s elderly boss. Technically, his mom was promoted a few years ago, but Marianne floats in and out overseeing everything. She always gave Percy a big hug whenever she saw him. He likes her.

“Do I still get to eat the free samples?” he asks.

“If you mean steal from the jars, then no.”

“Yes, but if a tree falls in a forest and there’s no one around, did it make a sound?”

Sally smiles fondly at him. “When did you start getting so philosophical?”

“I’ve always been philosophical, Mom. If Percy is philosophical and Mom is not around to hear it, was he ever philosophical?”

She laughs. “Okay, okay. Come on, I’m going to be late.”

The sweetshop has always been one of Percy’s favourite spots. Sally’s been working there for years – since Percy was a kid – and it’s been a safe haven of sorts for as long as he can remember. Just sitting behind the counter with his textbooks, surrounded by the smell of sugar and candied fruit, distantly hearing the bustle of the store, was enough to ease any stress. He learnt his times tables by helping his mom sort the change into the till, rewarded himself with sherbet lemons from the sweet jars on the counter for every question he did on his homework. That, and the fact he essentially had unlimited access to chocolate all day long, meant that by the time he was sixteen he was probably in the shop more than he was his own home.

He hasn’t been back for a while, but as soon as he steps in it’s as if he never left. So early in the morning, there are only a few customers; most of them seem content to ignore him, except a girl who must be around fifteen, staring at him intently as though she’s trying to place where she’s seen him before. Oblivious, Sally herds him towards the counter.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” she says, as they move through the store. “We just had a new shipment in yesterday. You can help unload it – I can’t remember who’s on shift today, but I’m sure they would be happy to have the extra pair of hands.”

“Yeah, of course, Ma,” Percy says. “Here to help.”

Sally pauses momentarily, brings her hand up to cup his face. “You’re a good boy, Percy,” she says softly. “I’m glad to have you back home.”

“Me, too.”

She smiles at him, and then pats his cheek. “All right,” she says. “Come on, I need to check the roster to see who’s working now.”

Later, Percy will blame the loose footstool for leaving him so blindsided. He doesn’t look where he’s going, collides with it and almost goes flying, has to grab onto one of the shelves to stop himself face-planting right then and there. It’s enough to keep his attention for a few moments, enough that he only vaguely processes his mom going, “Oh, honey, lovely to see you!” to whoever is at the till, enough that when his mom says, “Let me introduce you to my son, Percy” that he looks up for the first time, expecting an unfamiliar face.

Instead, a very familiar face stares back at him.

“Percy, this is Annabeth,” Sally says, oblivious. “Annabeth started here a few months ago. She’s been a massive help around the store. We’ve had to give up a bit of her time, though, since she started at school again this semester. Cornell, right, honey?”

Percy doesn’t think he can speak. Annabeth, after a year of silence, a year of confused dreams and a changed pizza order, after six months of staring at the dumb Coleridge anthology across the room and then six months of hungrily devouring it like nothing he’d ever read before, is here, in front of him. She’s real, she’s tangible, she’s _here_. Her hair is shorter, she’s wearing more makeup, but she’s still wearing the pink cardigan she wore all those months ago in the library.

He doesn’t think he can move.

Annabeth looks just as winded. “Yeah,” she says to Sally. She turns to Percy. “Hi.” A beat. Holds out her hand.

Her hand. Like he’s going to shake it. Like acquaintances. He’s always been glutton for punishment, so he does. “Hey,” he manages.

Sally smiles at them both. “Percy’s just stopping by to help me out around the store,” she says to Annabeth. “He can help you stock the shelves, it’s a big job and I wouldn’t want you to have to do it all by yourself. Will that be okay?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth says, “that’ll be fine.”

Hearing her voice again is like being electrified. He’d almost forgotten the sound of it, almost forgotten _her_ ; time just leaving him with imprints, outlines, making out the tinderbox of a person, seeing her in the crocuses in the park and every library he passes. He’d forgotten how much he liked the sound of her voice.

Why can’t he move?

“Good,” Sally says. She squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Be nice to her, she’s our best employee.”

Percy manages a laugh. “Best behaviour,” he says. “Promise.”

“You tell me if you need a break,” Sally says to Annabeth. “He’s a handful.”

“Will do,” Annabeth says.

“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” Sally says, as she walks away. “Have fun.”

And then they’re left alone. Percy keeps his eyes on the door Sally just left through as long as he dares, before glancing at Annabeth. She’s staring at him, eyes wide, filled with something like apprehension and barely-concealed excitement.

“Annabeth,” he says, is all he feels he can say.

“The shipment,” Annabeth says. “We should—do that.”

“Right,” Percy says. He shakes his head. “Yeah.”

They head into the stock room, where there is a trolley of boxed chocolate bars pushed up against the back. Annabeth moves like she’s familiar with the space, like she’s been here a while – how long had his mom said? A few months? Percy drinks every movement in. He can’t believe he’s seeing her again.

He realises he’s zoned out when he sees her looking expectantly at him.

“Sorry, what?” he says.

Her expression betrays nothing, but the edge of her mouth twitches in what he hopes is a smile. “I asked if you could come help me wheel this out,” she says.

Percy shakes his head. “Right, yes. Of course.”

Together, they pull the trolley out the door, Percy at the back, Annabeth at the front. She turns her head to the side as they move through the door, trying to navigate backwards, and he takes the time to appreciate the long, tanned length of her throat, the press of her collar against it. Her hair, loose around her face, falls over one shoulder, and Percy can see her earrings. With a pang, he realises they’re the same ones she bought at the market, the copper swirly ones with the stone in the middle. Something arrogant and prideful in him leaps at the sight. _You have a piece of her_ , it shouts.

Annabeth turns her head, catches him looking. He glances away immediately, but from his peripheral he sees the tips of her ears go red.

They haul it towards the empty shelves, near the footstool where he tripped. Percy thinks they’re going to start talking now, but as soon as the trolley stops Annabeth is pulling the boxes open, taking out the chocolate bar and stacking them neatly on the shelves, and he thinks, _all right_.

He hesitates, watching her from the corner of his eye as they put the chocolate away together, and then opens his mouth to say something. Before he can, however, he gets interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

Both Percy and Annabeth turn. It’s the fifteen-year-old he’d seen when he’d first walked in, who’d stared at him like she was trying to place where she’d seen him before. Her cheeks are bright red now, and she can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t work here,” Percy says.

“I know,” the girl says. She opens her mouth, pauses; then, in a rush: “Are you Percy Jackson?”

It comes out so fast that for a few moments Percy isn’t quite sure what she just said. Then his mind turns it over once, twice, and he finally comprehends. “Oh!” he says. “Yes, I am.”

“Can I get your autograph?”

“Of course.” Percy makes a half-aborted move to sign the receipt she’s holding out before he realises he doesn’t have a pen. He pats down his pockets, in case he had one buried there somewhere, but they’re all empty. Just before he can apologise to the girl, a throat clears delicately next to him, and when he turns Annabeth’s holding out a pen.

“Oh,” he says. “Thanks.” He takes it, turns to the girl. “Here?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure!” He signs the receipt with a flourish. He’s never really got the whole ‘signature’ thing down pat quite yet. He’s pretty sure every single autograph he’s signed so far all look drastically different. “There you are.”

“Thanks,” the girl squeaks out. She bobs her head at him, then Annabeth, then him again, and then darts out.

“Come again!” Percy calls out belatedly. He should probably try and get his mom some business as he can.

Predictably, there’s no response. He huffs out a laugh, turns back to the trolley – and then sees Annabeth looking at him. He can’t quite place her expression.

“Do you get that a lot?” she says.

Percy lifts a shoulder. “Not really,” he says. An attempt at levity: “Not that famous.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Annabeth nods thoughtfully, turns back to the shelf, eyes thoughtful. Percy thinks the conversation is over, so he does as well. He already knows he’ll be savouring this for days to come, coveting every inch of conversation he can scrounge up with her. If he thought he was over a girl he knew for less than two days a year ago, seeing her again has proved him very, very wrong.

But then she clears her throat. “I watched your movie,” she says. Percy glances at her. She doesn’t look at him, keeps packing away the chocolate bars like they’re just exchanging casual small talk. She must feel the gravity of it, though, must know that every word sweeps Percy off his feet.

“Yeah?”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were an actor.”

Percy exhales a laugh. “Not really, no.”

“I guess the audition you were preparing for—that was Drowning?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” she says. Belatedly: “Congratulations, by the way. On getting it.”

Percy laughs again at that. This is ridiculous. “A bit late, but thanks.”

“I was biding my time. Wanted to stand out from your legion of female fans.”

He huffs out a laugh, and so does she. He feels like he can’t stop smiling. By her pursed lips, it’s evident she shares the sentiment.

“What did you think of it?” he says, after a pause.

“Of what?”

“Drowning.”

Annabeth thinks about this. Her hair slips off her shoulder. “It was really sad.”

“Yeah.”

“It made me cry.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know,” Percy confesses. “I guess—I’m still getting used to people thinking I was good.”

“You were,” Annabeth says, softly. Suddenly, it feels like everyone else in the store has disappeared, just the two of them stood in front of a half-stocked chocolate shelf. She inhales. “You were—you were breath-taking.”

In a moment of bravery, Percy says, “I thought of you, in the audition.”

She looks at him sharply. “Really?”

“Yeah. The scene—where Isaac meets Anita. We had to read that one. I thought of you.” He ducks his head. “We’re always taught to—I don’t know, sort of project what we can of ourselves on the characters. Guess it makes it more realistic. I had to be in lo—” He cuts himself off abruptly. “I had to like her. And you were sort of my point for that.”

When he looks up again, her eyes are sharp, but thoughtful. In a voice almost no louder than a whisper, she says, “Were?”

Were. Are. Percy wants to tell her so much. He wants to tell her that she was the only thing he thought about for months, even after the finer details of her face faded from his memory, until all he was left with was an abstraction of her, just lots of feelings and thoughts and a book of poetry. That in all his happiness, in every high, there was always something missing; that in every low, when there was the potential of another girl, something always felt wrong.

Instead, he blurts, “I know Luke.”

Annabeth’s face softens. “I know.”

He exhales. “You know?”

“I watched your other movie. Half... human?”

Her eyes are amused. Percy says, “You know it’s Half-Blood.”

“Yeah, I do.” She hesitates, takes a step forward, takes his hand. Percy feels it like a point of electricity. “I wanted to see you smile.”

“I lied to you.”

“You couldn’t exactly tell me that the guy I’d been insulting all night was one of your castmates.”

“Yes, I could. I owed you that much.”

Annabeth traces a line in his hand. “Do you like him?”

Percy frowns. “What?”

“Do you like Luke?”

“No, he’s a dick. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

“There you go.” She smiles at him, almost wryly. “Luke is an asshole who dumped me when I was eighteen. He doesn’t get to ruin this for us. He doesn’t get to come between us. I’m done with letting boys dictate my life.”

Percy feels his heart hammer in his chest. _For us_. “All boys?” he says.

Annabeth’s smile almost turns shy. “I think I can maybe make an exception,” she says.

“That’s good,” he says. He feels his chest swell with something inexplicable. He can’t put on a finger on it. All he knows is that right now, he just wants to be closer. “I might know a guy.”

Annabeth’s face turns delighted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They’re almost whispering now, just keeping it between them. Percy feels like they’re sharing air at this point. He reaches up, traces a finger down her temple, because he can, catches it on a stray curl. “He’s an actor. Was in a few small movies. One of them has this other dick in it, though. I’d say avoid that one.”

Annabeth smiles. “What else?”

“He... composed all of Mozart’s symphonies,” he says, and grins when Annabeth throws back her head and laughs. “He likes olive and pepperoni pizza. He reads Coleridge. And he thinks you’re beautiful.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Annabeth says.

“I guess,” Percy says. “He’s still hung up on this girl, though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“He met her a year ago, when he was in New York for an audition. They spent a day together. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her. She’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.”

Annabeth’s smile is so soft. “He should tell her.”

“Yeah, he should.” He turns their hands, properly links their fingers. Her nails are painted the same shade of pink as they were all those months ago, back in the library, when he took her hand and asked for her name. Annabeth. “What do you say?”

“To what?”

“I’m not leaving here anytime soon. I don’t have a train to catch this time. I’m here for as long as I want.”

“That’s good,” Annabeth says. Her voice is a whisper. “I’ve got it on good authority that she really likes him too.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

For a few moments, they just stand there. Percy’s sure he’s got the dopiest grin on his face, but he doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. After a year of noise, he’s finally found quiet.

He’s not quite sure who moves first: all he knows is one minute, they’re staring at each other, and then, the next, one of them is lunging forward – maybe it’s Annabeth, maybe it’s him – and then they’re kissing. Annabeth drops the chocolate bar she’s got clutched in her hand, Percy hears it hit the floor, but he can’t concentrate, not when he feels her arms wrap around his neck. He slides his own around her waist, pulls her closer, and thinks, _life can’t get much better than this._

Then, from behind him, he becomes aware of a throat clearing.

They separate like they’ve just been shocked, but they don’t take their arms away from each other. Percy’s not ever really sure he can. He immediately regrets this thought when sees his mom stood in the aisle, her eyebrows raised.

“Mom,” he says. “Uh. Hey.”

Sally pointedly looks at them, where one of Annabeth’s hands are tangled in his hair, where one of his are clutching at the back of her shirt, like he can’t bear to let her go. “I see you’re getting on well,” she says mildly.

“Right,” Percy says, and he and Annabeth glance at each other. “Uh. Mom. I have something to tell you.”

“We’re dating,” Annabeth rushes out. Percy goggles at her. She glances at him nervously. “Uh,” she adds, quieter, “If that’s all right.”

“Yes,” he says, immediately. “Yes, that is more than okay. Let’s date.”

A relieved smile breaks across her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks at his mom, who’s still stood there with an amused look on her face. “Mom. We’re dating.”

Sally just raises her eyebrows, but Percy can see in her eyes, there is something genuinely pleased. A unit since day one. All they’ve wanted is for the other to be happy. And Percy doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his life. “See that those chocolate bars are put away,” is all she says. And then, to Annabeth: “You’re coming over for dinner next week.”

“Okay,” Annabeth says, a little breathless.

Sally gives them one last, fond smile before disappearing. As soon as she’s gone, Percy and Annabeth look at each other.

“Did that just happen?” Annabeth says breathlessly. “Did your mom just catch us making out?”

“Annabeth,” Percy says. “We’re _dating_.”

He can’t focus on anything else. He feels like he might just erupt. Annabeth’s face softens, and she pushes a stray hair out of his face.

“Yeah,” she says. “We are.”

All Percy can do is hold onto her. It’s been a really, really good year.


End file.
